


A Perfect Sapphic Storm

by tansybells



Series: A Victorian Era Edelgard Sandwich [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Comedy of Errors, Detective Edelgard, Eventual Smut, F/F, Gratuitous Sexual Ineptitude, Inspired by Knives Out (2019), Multi, Oblivious Lesbian Edelgard, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, There's a Dead Guy but it's Not Really Important, Vague 1890s-1910s Setting, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: Edelgard investigates a young widow and her best friend on her quest to discover the truth about an unexpected death, and for the first time in her life, Edelgard finds herself wanting something other than justice.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Marianne von Edmund/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Series: A Victorian Era Edelgard Sandwich [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116866
Comments: 149
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

Edelgard pressed her fingers against her temples and rubbed them in a clockwise motion that did nothing to ease either the headache building at the front of her mind or the argument between her colleagues that was quickly picking up traction.

“I don’t understand why you’re taking this so seriously,” Ferdinand said with a haughty roll of his eyes. “Men die of natural causes every day; this one was merely rich enough that he made the papers.”

“I must disagree.” Hubert shook his head, his arms firmly crossed over his chest. “Lord Acheron was a fit young man, who by all means should have had several decades longer to live. It does not make  _ sense  _ for the man to have died in the middle of the night.”

“Nor does it make sense for us to request the case! They should be asking  _ us _ !” Ferdinand coughed into his fist. “Not that there’s a case that we should be taking in the first place.”

“And have a murderer on the loose?” Hubert raised a brow. “I fail to see how simultaneously getting paid, easing the mind of the populace, and having our name broadcast to the masses could possibly be a bad thing.”

“Hubert, I  _ do  _ believe your priorities have been shaken out of order.”

“von Aegir, if you are trying to insinuate that I care for something other than the success of our joint endeavor, then—" 

“We’re taking the case,” Edelgard announced, standing up and setting the newspaper down on her desk with a resolute  _ thud _ . Ferdinand and Hubert broke off their argument and turned to look at her with matching expressions of confusion.

“We’re—we’re  _ taking  _ it?” Ferdinand scoffed, adjusting his cravat. Edelgard rolled her eyes, fully aware that it was nothing more than a self-conscious move on his part. “Edelgard, there’s no case  _ to  _ take. That article is nothing more than gossip and hearsay.”

“If Edelgard thinks there’s a case,” Hubert grumbled at Ferdinand, “then there’s a case.”

“But why?” Ferdinand strode to the paper on her desk, picking it up and gesticulating wildly. “The man died of a heart condition. Perfectly natural, and absolutely  _ not  _ a sign of foul play.” 

“Yes, and his pretty young wife seems oh-so-very distraught. Did you not read the rest of the article?” Marching around to the other side of her desk and snatching the paper back from Ferdinand, Edelgard read aloud from the article.

_ “When it came to the death of her husband, the young widow had little to say. ‘Few people understood that he was a very kind man beneath his anger,’ Ms. Acheron (née Goneril) said, ‘and I will miss him dearly. While we were married for just a few months, I can only hope that he is at peace, wherever he is.’ _

_ Her companion, who Ms. Acheron explained to us has been by her side since she first discovered the late Lord Acheron, took over the conversation when it became clear that the young widow was in no state to go on. _

_ ‘Hilda has been very distraught by all this,” Miss von Edmund said. ‘We’ve decided that it would be wise to return to her family home in the country for the time being, until she has had the opportunity to recover from the stress of this ordeal.’" _

Lowering the paper, Edelgard smiled grimly. “If that doesn’t sound like foul play to you, I don’t know what does. Something’s happened here, gentlemen, and I think we should investigate lest our inaction allow a murderess to go free.”  
  


* * *

  
  
As soon as they could, Edelgard and Hubert took a carriage out to the Goneril estate. It was a relatively long drive, as the property was in the countryside, a refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life. It wasn’t so far away as to be completely isolated, but traveling there was certainly a commitment. 

When they arrived, pulling up before a reasonable, two-story mansion that sat at the end of a rounded driveway, Hubert clucked his tongue and drew their rented buggy to a crawl before stopping entirely. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, glancing to Edelgard with a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “You seem very convinced about the outcome of this case.” 

“I’ve cleared my mind,” Edelgard assured him. “I have to set aside my initial prejudice so that we can discover the truth, after all.” And it was true; she had certainly tried to do so. But she was of the opinion that her doggedness would allow them to get to the root of the matter. 

After dismounting and tying their horse to a post, Hubert walked around to offer Edelgard a hand. “I trust your judgement, Edelgard. Please, take care to approach this case logically.” 

“Of course.” Edelgard smiled up at him as her feet hit the ground. “When have I ever not?” 

Grimly, Hubert smiled back. They turned their collective attention to the mansion before them. 

Thick, heavy, and ornate, the front door of the Goneril mansion screamed of old money. With a deep breath, Edelgard walked up the short stairway, lifted a gloved hand, and knocked on the door. It took long enough that she was tempted to knock again, but before she raised her hand to do so, the door opened. 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice, soft and pleasant, came from behind the door. The woman herself, however, remained just within the shadow cast at the entry.

“Hello.” Edelgard placed a hand over her heart and bowed slightly at the waist. It wasn’t the proper way for a woman to introduce herself, but her position within the encounter was masculine enough that she felt justified in her decision. “I am Detective Edelgard von Hresvelg; I am here to speak with Mrs. Acheron and Miss von Edmund regarding the demise of the recent Lord Acheron.”

The woman who had opened the door for her, a taller, slender woman with gentle brown eyes and a thick braided bun of blue hair, took a deep, trembling breath and smiled at Edelgard.

“I am Marianne von Edmund,” she said, grabbing hold of her skirt with both hands and dipping into a brief curtsy of her own.

Edelgard raised a brow at the shaking of the woman’s hands, but said nothing about it. Instead, she asked, “Is Ms. Acheron home?”

“Yes,” Marianne said, glancing over her shoulder. “Actually, um, she’s in—she’s down in the study, I believe. Can you wait here for me to go get her? I would prefer… um, she should be the one to let you in. It’s her house, I mean.”

With a deep breath, Edelgard considered the request. It wasn’t out of bounds, but she was concerned that agreeing would grant the women an opportunity to get away. Then again, they were in the countryside, practically the middle of nowhere. If they were to try and escape, where could they possibly go?

She looked over to Hubert, whose expression, while neutral, indicated that he had no issue with the request. So with a slight shrug, Edelgard nodded.

Nodding back in silent agreement, Marianne disappeared into the mansion and let the door fall shut between herself and the two detectives.

“She’s a quiet one, isn’t she?” Edelgard murmured to Hubert. “She sounded quite different in the newspaper interview. More confident.”

Hubert made a low sound of assent. “Remember that it’s not every day that one is visited by investigators,” he replied, looking straight ahead. “She’s likely to be on edge, especially since we didn’t give them advance notice before arriving.”

“True.” Edelgard set her hands on her hips. “I only hope that they’re not taking advantage of the delay to get their story straight. I know they’ve had the time, since it’s been a few days since Acheron’s death, but, you know. Last-minute preparations.”

Hubert sounded like he intended to make another comment, but the door finally opened before them. They could hear Marianne’s quiet, muffled voice, but it was another woman entirely who opened the door for them.

She was short, about Edelgard’s own height, and she opened the door with a confidence, a nonchalant anger, that Edelgard found surprising.

The wife of the late Lord Acheron: Hilda Valentine Acheron, née Goneril.

“What do you want?” Hilda asked with a toss of long, pink hair, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorjamb. Edelgard took mental note of the way her posture literally blocked Hubert and herself from coming any further onto the Goneril property. “We already talked to the newspaper and the police. I thought we were done with all this.”

“Normally,” Edelgard said, “you would be. But there are still some concerns about the manner of your husband’s death, so our agency has been contracted to continue the investigation.” It wasn’t a  _ lie,  _ per se, but Edelgard had specifically requested that she and her partners be taken on due to her interest in the case. There was no need for these ladies to know that, however.

Edelgard snapped her fingers. Right, she was being rude. “My apologies, Ms. Acheron.” She laid a hand on her chest, mirroring the pose she’d adopted when introducing herself to Marianne. “I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, and my companion here is Hubert von Vestra.”

“And  _ I’m  _ Hilda Goneril,” Hilda retorted with a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to move on from my late husband, okay? So don’t call me by his name.”

“Of course,” Hubert said from beside Edelgard, who nodded. “Our apologies, Miss Goneril. May we come in?”

“What do you think, Mari?” Hilda said, and Marianne’s worried expression appeared from inside.

“Do we really have a choice?” she asked with a feeble smile. “I mean, they’re  _ detectives. _ ”

Hilda wrinkled her nose; it was obvious that she really didn’t like the situation that she’d been placed in. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said, even as she opened the door wide enough for Hubert and Edelgard to step in. “Come on in, guys. I’ll take you to the sitting room. Mari, can you go get something for them to drink? We can’t be bad hosts, even to unexpected visitors.”

“Is tea alright?” Marianne asked, poking up above Hilda’s head.

“I have no qualms with it,” Edelgard said, even as Hubert quietly said that he needed nothing to drink.

With a little nod to indicate that she’d heard and understood them, Marianne disappeared into the house. Hilda, meanwhile, stepped aside and motioned for Hubert and Edelgard to come in.

“It would have been great to know that you guys were coming today,” Hilda said through a too-wide smile before taking the lead. “We would’ve had a chance to clean up. But you don’t really work around other people’s schedules, do you?”

Edelgard hummed. “We only learned that we were to take this case a day or two ago, ma’am. We would have gladly given you a ring otherwise.”

Hilda scoffed, clearly frustrated by the detectives’ presences, but stopped outside the door to the sitting room regardless. “Well, here we are. Go ahead and sit down. Whichever couch you want; me and Mari can take the other one.”

“Thank you,” Edelgard said, and Hubert merely grunted in response. She claimed the rightmost sofa, and sat down on one side.

As Edelgard shuffled the fabric of her skirt around to make herself comfortable, Marianne re-entered the room. She set a cup of tea down in front of Edelgard, then smiled nervously at her before crossing the sitting room to sit down beside where the former Mrs. Acheron had taken a seat.

“Thank you very much,” Edelgard said, not touching the cup on the table before her. Instead, she fidgeted with the hem of her white kid gloves before crossing one leg over the other and looking the two women head-on.

Hubert didn’t sit beside her, though there was certainly space on the settee. Instead, he stood stiffly behind her, his arms folded behind his back. Edelgard knew that the two of them made for an intimidating duo, which was why she’d elected to bring Hubert with her as opposed to Ferdinand.

Judging by the way in which Marianne was nigh upon  _ trembling  _ in their presence, she had made the correct decision. The sweet-faced woman leaned in to whisper something to Hilda, who giggled and patted Miss von Edmund’s knee as she whispered something back.

Edelgard sighed. It was always frustrating when a suspect was this thick with a friend, and it was only  _ more  _ frustrating when they were so close as to live together. They had been granted time to get their story straight, and her job was only going to be that much more difficult because of it.

She cleared her throat. Both women sat up, though Marianne jumped in her seat far more noticeably. Edelgard raised a brow. While her suspect was Hilda, and Hilda alone, she had to admit that the other woman was acting suspiciously.

“I apologize for Marianne,” Hilda said, squeezing Marianne’s knee through the fabric of her demure blue dress. “She’s  _ really  _ nervous about this whole thing. It’s like she’s nervous for the both of us, right, Mari?” She jostled Marianne’s arm with her shoulder, at which Marianne’s cheeks flushed with color.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Hubert said from behind, “We are merely here to discuss the facts of the case at hand.” Edelgard nodded, though she could not agree. If Hilda was indeed responsible for the death of Lord Acheron, then she  _ should  _ be nervous. But it was important to allow the women to feel at least a  _ little  _ relaxed; they would be more likely to speak truthfully that way.

“Well, it’s not like we’ve done this a million times before!” Hilda laughed in that high-pitched voice of hers. Marianne set her hand on top of Hilda’s, likely to offer comfort. “Alright, Mr. Detective-man. Ask me your questions.”

Frowning, Edelgard reached into her bag for the notebook and pen which she’d written everything down in so far. “Actually,” she interjected as she opened the notebook and set it down upon her lap, “ _ I  _ shall be the one asking you the questions. Meanwhile, my partner shall be looking around your estate if that is alright.”

“This is a necessary part of the investigation process,” Hubert supplied. “It allows us to obtain a better understanding of your personality, we have found, which will allow us to further prove your innocence if necessary.”

After a glance between each other, Marianne stood up and smoothed out the front of her gown. “I’ll show you around, Detective,” she said resignedly, gesturing for Hubert to follow.

Edelgard nodded again. Miss von Edmund seemed to have picked up on the fact that she would prefer to speak with Hilda alone. It was their usual strategy: divide and conquer. Not only would Hubert have the opportunity to better understand Marianne through whatever conversation they might have, but his keen eye would pick up on things about their living situation that most people would overlook.

At some point, the two of them would switch partners. Hubert would walk around with Hilda, and Edelgard would have a chance to talk with Marianne, since she’d been present leading up to Lord Acheron’s death. They would be able to compare notes on the way home, or perhaps over dinner at the office.

But for the time being, Edelgard was left alone with the reticent Miss Goneril. The woman, her hair pulled up high and secured with a lace ribbon, set one knee above the other as she relaxed against the back of her seat. Even though Marianne was gone, Hilda seemed to be fully comfortable in the face of her upcoming interrogation. She smiled widely at Edelgard.

“So, what do you wanna know?”

“Well.” Edelgard glanced at her notebook. “Let’s go over your version of the events. You had dinner with Miss von Edmund and your husband. Since Miss von Edmund lived quite far away at the time, she stayed the night in a guestroom. You and your husband, Lord Acheron, went to bed together, and when you woke up, he was dead.” She looked up to meet Hilda’s eyes and raised a brow. “Have I missed anything?”

“You forgot to ask about what we ate,” Hilda supplied helpfully. “We were celebrating a business deal that my late husband had just sealed, so we had wine, steak, and roasted potatoes.”

“Was he often successful in business?”

“Yeah, he was pretty ruthless. We ate a lot of steak.”

Edelgard tapped her chin with her pen. That lined up with what she knew of Lord Acheron’s finances. The two of them had been well enough off that Lord Acheron had been able to finance Hilda’s rather lavish tastes without having to delve too deep into his coffers.

Even so, it made no sense for Hilda to murder him for his money. She had enough of her own. The Goneril family was quite well off after all, and Hilda had grown up with an effectively infinite pocketbook. For all intents and purposes, she  _ still  _ had that infinite pocketbook, even though she was financially independent.

“Miss von Edmund ate dinner with the two of you. Did that happen often?”

-

“Y-yes, it was a common thing.”

Marianne gathered the fabric of her skirt up in clenched fists, her face pale with nerves even as she looked straight at Edelgard. Edelgard had to admit, she was impressed by Marianne’s resolve. It was rarely easy to be the person being interrogated. Even so, she couldn’t afford to ease up on the poor thing.

“Why?” Edelgard pressed. “They were a married couple. Didn’t you feel like a third wheel?”

“She was lonely,” Marianne whispered, finally letting her gaze drop down to her lap. “They got along, um, decently well, but Hilda and I have been close since childhood. I tried to give them space, but sooner or later, I’d get a call from Hilda.”

“‘ _ Decently well, _ ’ you said.” Edelgard lifted a hand and bent two fingers in a gesture akin to quotation marks. “That doesn’t sound like a very good marriage arrangement.”

“They didn’t marry for love.” The volume of Marianne’s voice dropped even lower; Edelgard worried that if she got any quieter, she’d have to move from her seat and sit down beside her to hear her speak. “Lord Acheron’s business benefitted immensely from their marriage. Hilda’s very good at, um…”

She paused, the line between her pale blue brows deepening as she searched for the way she wanted to phrase her reply. “She’s high on the social ladder, and Lord Acheron is—um,  _ was _ —new money. She opened up new opportunities for him.”

“It doesn’t seem like Miss Goneril got anything out of the arrangement. Why would she go along with the marriage?”

-

“I didn’t really have a choice, you know?” Hilda shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. Edelgard noted down the way she’d closed herself off, as well as the way Hilda’s eyes followed her motion. She wasn’t going to be getting anything past her, it seemed, even as Hilda continued talking. “I mean, you should get how it is, Detective. Not everyone is lucky enough to get to have their own business.”

Edelgard hummed noncommittally, though she did know exactly what Hilda was talking about. She was well aware of how very fortunate she was, relatively speaking. The societal pressure to get married had largely passed over her, thanks to the nature of her chosen career.

“Was he ever cruel to you?” Edelgard continued. “Did he hit you, or otherwise mistreat you?”

Hilda snorted. “Nah, he didn’t do anything like that. My late husband knew he needed to stay on my good side if he wanted me to butter up the upper class for him.”

“So, he treated you well,” Edelgard stated, jotting down the fact that Hilda seemed to have an aversion to actually stating her husband’s name. “With that in mind, how did you respond when you found him dead the next morning?”

-

“She came to my room and shook me awake,” Marianne explained in a voice thick with emotion. Her brown eyes, shining with unshed tears met Edelgard’s steadily. “Tears were streaming down her face, and she was so scared that her first instinct was to try and crawl into bed with me. Like it was nothing more than a nightmare that she had yet to wake up from.”

‘And then…?”

“And then we went to their bedroom together, and Lord Acheron was dead.” Marianne’s voice trembled. “He was just in their bed, dead! Like he’d gone to bed and never woken up.”

“We’re still waiting on the autopsy reports,” Edelgard said in a half-hearted attempt to reassure the other woman, “but there is a good chance that that is exactly what happened. The people who investigated your friend’s home didn’t report any trauma to his body, and—”

“I’m sorry,” Marianne interrupted her, holding a hand up to pause Edelgard in the middle of her thoughts. “I… I’m getting very tired. We’ve been speaking for a few hours now, and—and if there’s nothing else you need, I’d like to lie down.”

“Oh, yes. I see.” Edelgard looked over her shoulder to see that Hubert, who had returned from speaking with Hilda, was standing stiffly at the entrance to the sitting room. She lifted a brow and canted her head slightly towards Marianne in a silent request for his opinion regarding her question.

“I don’t have anything else to discuss at the moment,” Hubert replied. Hilda, meanwhile, immediately swept into the room upon hearing that they were done for the day.

“Are you alright, Mari?” she asked, descending upon Marianne with a worried expression and cupping the woman’s sallow cheeks in her hands. “Those horrible, mean detectives didn’t hurt you or anything?”

“They’re still here…” Marianne mumbled uncomfortably, blushing as she took Hilda’s hands in her own. “Please, Hilda, don’t be rude—”

“I think we’ve outstayed our welcome.” Closing her notebook with a resolute little  _ thunk _ , Edelgard rose from her place on the settee and joined Hubert at the door. She turned to face the two women with a terse smile. “We will get in touch should we have any more questions to ask you. Oh, and you needn’t get up. We can let ourselves out.”   
  


* * *

As the door to the Goneril mansion closed behind them, and Edelgard could no longer feel the derisive eyes of her lead suspect burning holes into her head, she sighed and let her strict posture fall into a more relaxed state.

“What did you find?” she asked Hubert, who shook out the lower half of his coat with a firm, precise motion, like he was ridding himself of all that had happened within the estate. She couldn’t blame him; the women that she’d interviewed had presented an incredibly unified front. She hadn’t found any chinks in their armor, though she had been surprised by how close Hilda and Marianne had been—close enough, in fact, that Marianne spending several nights a month at the late lord’s house had been common.

“I took note of the medicines in their cabinets,” Hubert said, taking out his own little notebook and flipping through it. “It seems that Miss von Edmund struggles with insomnia; there were several tinctures in her possession to aid with sleep. Barbiturates, chloral hydrate, the like.”

“That makes sense,” Edelgard mused as she stepped down from the doorstep and towards their waiting buggy. “She seemed very tired during our talk together, and you heard her request that we finish up so that she could get some rest. What about Miss Goneril?”

“She’s as hale as a horse. The only things I found in her possession were a number of beauty products. Salves, serums, moisturizers, the like.”

“You wrote them down, I presume?”

“Naturally. I intend to investigate their properties as soon as we return to the office.”

Edelgard hummed in assent. “Take Ferdinand with you. Perhaps the two of you can find a doctor knowledgeable about the compounds involved. Meanwhile, I’ll compile what we’ve learned so that we can discuss it.”

Taking hold of Hubert’s proffered hand, Edelgard used him as leverage to get onto their buggy. While she’d originally planned to look over all of their combined knowledge once back at the office, she took possession of Hubert’s notebook after he settled on the seat beside her and began to look through. It would be a long time until they made it back to the office, after all, and she might as well take advantage of the trip to begin putting the individual pieces of their case together.

They knew several things.

Marianne had stayed the night after sharing a meal with the married couple.

Acheron and his wife held no love for each other, but had entered their marriage like it was a business contract. Well, Acheron had. Hilda, on the other hand, seemed to have resented the situation despite having come to terms with it.

Moving on.

Acheron had perished during the night, of a seemingly natural cause.

Normally, Edelgard wouldn’t take that to be suspicious. What she didn’t understand, however, was how Hilda had responded to the event. According to the interview she had done with the newspaper, she had been quite shaken by his sudden demise. Yet in speaking to the widow, Edelgard had gotten the impression that she really didn’t feel very passionately about her husband’s death at all.

In his death, Hilda had regained her freedom. Edelgard simply worried that it was all too convenient for her.

And yes. If it truly  _ was  _ random, an act from above, then Edelgard was prepared to sincerely apologize for her suspicion and move on with her life. Another day, another case.

But if it came to pass that Hilda was responsible for the death of her husband, then Edelgard would bring the hammer of justice down upon her without hesitation.  
  


* * *

  
Several days after the initial interview, Edelgard once more found herself on the front doorstep of the Goneril estate. She was alone this time, as Hubert had elected to join Ferdinand instead and assist with separate tasks that needed to be completed that day.

The faintest sound of thunder on the horizon drew her attention; she glanced over her shoulder. While the sky was indeed overcast, and the horse attached to the buckboard she had ridden to the Goneril estate that day was a little restless in response, she wasn’t overly concerned. Surely, she would be able to have a brief conversation with Marianne and Hilda and make it back home before the weather became too much of an issue.

But the door was open to her, thankfully, and she accepted the silent invitation without complaint.

“I’m so very sorry to intrude,” Edelgard said, folding her coat over her arm as she stepped into the foyer. A look passed between Hilda and Marianne, and a silent conversation was held before they looked to her with a smile.

“It’s no problem at all,” Hilda said coolly, like Edelgard had arrived for a simple social visit instead of a follow-up interview. “Why don’t you come on in? I have some tea sitting around, I think; how does that sound?”

Edelgard, however, frowned. The only smiles she had received from the two women the first time she had visited the estate had been forced, obviously strained, and full of barely hidden hostility. The smiles that faced her now, though, might as well have come from two completely different people.

She felt almost welcomed by the two women this time around. Like they were happy that she was there. The sudden change of mind made absolutely no sense to Edelgard, but she decided to accept it and move on. She had more important things to consider, after all—like the probable guilt of Miss Goneril.

Clearing her mind with a brief shake of her head, Edelgard made an attempt to smile back. “That’s quite alright, Miss Goneril,” she said, but Hilda waved her polite refusal away.

“Nah, let’s get you some tea. It’s an overcast day, and you rode, like, all the way out here.” She reached out to take Edelgard’s coat, and reluctantly, Edelgard let her. As she hung her coat up on the coat rack by the door, she continued to talk. “You remember the way to the sitting room, right? Where we talked last time? You know what? Mari, you go ahead and take her over there. I’ll follow up in a second.”

Out of nowhere, Hilda winked at Edelgard. “How do you like your tea, Detective? I have a feeling you’d like some sugar.”

Marianne chuckled. Confused, Edelgard glanced at her, but as soon as she made eye contact with the pale woman, Marianne froze in place. It was a pity, Edelgard thought, that she’d stopped laughing. It had been quiet, but her laughter had been pleasant to listen to.

“No, actually,” Edelgard murmured, reluctant to draw her gaze away from Marianne, like looking away would cause another strange occurrence. “But thank you for asking. Is there any cream?”

“Give me a few minutes,” Hilda said with another ostentatious wink, this time grinning widely. “I’m sure I could get something worked up for you.”

Edelgard looked Hilda’s way just as Marianne sputtered with laughter. Edelgard snapped her attention back to Marianne, only to see that the woman had pressed her hands up against her mouth to try and hold back any more laughter.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny, Miss von Edmund,” Edelgard said. “Miss Goneril is merely asking me about my preferences.”

“Yes,” Hilda elaborated, “about her preferences.”

“I’ve got to go,” Marianne said weakly, clutching at her stomach with one hand and pressing the other against the wall, like she was on the verge of fainting. “Let me—I’m going to—”

“You know what, I take it back.” Hilda snapped her fingers. “Mari, you get the tea. I’ll take Miss Detective to the sitting room. Something tells me you need a second to yourself.”

Marianne said something beneath her breath, something Edelgard didn’t manage to catch before Marianne swept out of the foyer and down a hallway towards what Edelgard assumed was the kitchen. Edelgard’s eyes followed her until the moment the fabric of her demure blue dress completely vanished from sight.

“Come with me, Detective,” Hilda said as she tugged on the sleeve of Edelgard’s shirtwaist. Edelgard hummed in agreement, her attention effectively brought back to the present situation, and as soon as Hilda let go of her sleeve, she followed Hilda towards the sitting room.

Once she’d entered the room, Edelgard moved to reclaim the settee she’d been prompted to take the last time she’d visited the residence. Hilda sat down across from her.

“So, Detective,” Hilda said, leaning forward and propping her elbows up on her knees. “What brings you back here? Forget to dredge up some horribly traumatic memory of mine, perhaps?”

Edelgard raised a brow. How interesting. How confusing. Hilda’s posture had been incredibly closed off the last time she’d come to her home. This time, however, she was open. Despite her confrontational words, Hilda even seemed to appear interested in what Edelgard had to say.

“Nothing so horrible as that,” Edelgard hurried to assure her, “though I’m afraid some of what I have to ask may be slightly uncomfortable. Would it be better for me to come back another day?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Leaning back in her seat, Hilda stretched out towards Edelgard. As she lifted her arms, however, the nature of her dress left her collar gaping open so that Edelgard caught an unwitting glance of the cleavage just barely hidden within.

With a subtle cough, Edelgard averted her gaze from both Hilda’s cleavage and the smirk hovering just above it. How was she not aware of her immodesty? But, as Marianne joined them in the room, Hilda straightened up immediately.

“Mari!” she cheered. “Welcome back!”

“I live here, Hilda,” Marianne said with a faint smile as she held out a teacup for Edelgard to take. “You shouldn’t be so surprised to see me.”

Edelgard accepted the tea gratefully, and as the sip she took ran down her throat and warmed her thoroughly, she offered Marianne a faint smile.

“Thank you very much,” she said, then took one more sip before setting the teacup down before her. Taking her notebook and pencil out of her skirt pocket, she opened the book in her lap. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go ahead and begin. Miss Goneril, if I may—?”

With a brief glance to Marianne, who shrugged in response, Hilda looked back at Edelgard and nodded. “Yeah, why not?” 

“Alright.” Edelgard gestured towards the open page in her notebook, which she knew neither lady across from her could see, but it was for her own reference more than anything else. “In our previous interview, you stated that your husband—”

“Late husband.”

“—your late husband was a very ruthless businessman. Is it possible that anyone could have wanted to harm him in return?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Leaning against Marianne’s side, Hilda wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms over her chest.

Edelgard noted that despite the friendly, cordial manner with which Hilda had been acting before the interview had begun, as soon as Lord Acheron was brought up, she physically closed herself off. It had happened in their previous interview, and it had happened again just then. She wrote it down surreptitiously.

“Can you elaborate?”

“I mean, not really.” Hilda sighed. “He was a jerk, yeah? He didn’t like me getting nosy into his stuff, and it wasn’t like I wanted to, anyway. He just wanted me to hang on his arm and introduce him to the right people.”

Edelgard intended to ask another question, but Hilda cut her off.

“Oh, right.” Hilda laughed sharply, a cruel, harsh sound. “He also kept trying to fuck me.” She then leaned in and tried to peer at Edelgard’s notebook. “Are you writing that down, too?”

“That would make sense,” Edelgard said carefully, ignoring both Hilda’s vulgarity and the slight regarding her notetaking. “You are a very beautiful woman, after all. I doubt that any man would be able to—” 

Catching herself and the insinuations she was preparing to make, Edelgard snapped her mouth shut. She covered her mouth with her hand in a futile attempt to obscure her growing blush; she heard giggling and glanced up to see that both ladies on the couch across from her were finding something incredibly funny. What it was, she didn’t know, but Edelgard straightened up in her seat and adjusted the fit of her skirt.

“Moving on,” she said, struggling to keep her expression neutral, “I suppose I should let you know that we did receive the autopsy results back from the doctor.”

“What did they say?” Hilda blurted out, her eyes wide. She patted Marianne’s arm rapidly, as though she were suddenly filled with a pent-up energy that would only subside once she knew the truth. “What happened to him?”

“The only real abnormality was a heightened trichloroethanol count,” Edelgard informed them. “The reason I say this is… well, to put it bluntly, we have reason to suspect that the late Lord Acheron was poisoned.”

Marianne covered her gasp of surprise with a hand and fell against the back of the couch. Edelgard continued her delivery of information, as coolly and professionally as she could manage in the face of two such emotional women.

“This is why I must ask you, Miss Goneril, to do your very best to remember anyone who has borne a grudge against your late husband. You could be privy to exceptionally useful information that we could use further on in the investigation.”

She tried to smile, as though it would relieve their concerns, but neither women seemed to be paying much attention to her. Hilda and Marianne chattered quietly to each other, Hilda wrapping herself up in Marianne’s arms, and it was becoming increasingly clear to Edelgard that she wasn’t going to have much more success in conversing with the two of them.

The rumble of thunder over ahead confirmed her suspicion. Edelgard looked up with a frown. It had been overcast when she’d arrived, yes, and she’d prepared for a light rain, but she hadn’t expected that it would begin to storm.

“I… think I shall take this as a sign to take my leave,” Edelgard murmured as she stood, at which Hilda looked up from her conversation with Marianne.

“You remember the way out, right?” Hilda teased with a grin. “You couldn’t wait to leave, last time.”

“I remember,” Edelgard assured them. “You needn’t get up on my account.”

Marianne broke in with, “Don’t forget to grab your coat, Detective!”

“I won’t.” Edelgard smiled faintly at them as she let her notebook fall deep into her pocket. “Thank you for your time, ladies. If you should recall anything that could aid us as we search for your late husband’s killer, Miss Goneril, please let me know. I will leave my calling card on the table by the front door.”

She received a nod of acknowledgement from Hilda, and a silent wave good-bye from Marianne, and Edelgard excused herself politely.

The weather had soured faster than she’d thought it would, and she hoped to make it home before the storm came down in full force, she would have to move quickly.  
  


* * *

  
It took time to calm down her horse and reattach the buckboard that she had ridden to the mansion, but soon enough, Edelgard found herself on the long road back to the city where her life and work resided. The trip went well for a few miles, but despite her earnest intent to leave quickly, it seemed that she hadn’t been half as expedient as she had hoped to be.

Even so, she remained hopeful that she would make it home before anything happened. 

It quickly became apparent that her hope was in vain. Rain, so thick that what sunlight remained was largely obscured, began to pour down from the evening sky, and Edelgard’s stomach fell alongside it. She’d never been more frustrated to have her suspicions confirmed. 

And worse, the rain was coming down cold. If it had been a warm rain, she probably could have pressed on through and made it home without any worries. But the rain had only been falling for a little while now, and already her coat—which was made to withstand the autumn wind, not the rain—was soaked through. It was a chilling, bone-deep cold, too, and Edelgard knew that if she finished the journey back to the city, unsheltered from the wind and rain as she was, she risked getting sick.

Pneumonia? A bronchial infection?

She’d suffered through such illnesses before, and each recovery had been long and grueling. It could be done. She had the strength of self to pull herself through.

But if there was a chance that she could avoid falling ill entirely…

It was a poor decision; she was well aware. But Edelgard was unfamiliar with the area, and she didn’t know how long it would take to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

Dread boiling in her stomach, Edelgard clucked her tongue and pulled on her horse’s reins. And despite her every instinct screaming that this was a bad idea, she turned around to follow the road back to the Goneril mansion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard witnesses the joys of female friendship. While she may not understand, she certainly finds herself intrigued. And maybe even... jealous? How unusual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated rating! There are dreams ahead. ❤︎

For the third, most frustrating time, Edelgard stood beneath the awning of the mansion’s front door. Nervously, she shifted her weight from side to side as she tried to gather up the courage to make her presence known.

_ knock-knock-knock _

She regretted knocking on the door immediately. This was a horrible idea. She needed to turn around, to leave, to suck it up, go home, and just deal with the aftereffects of her exposure.

But at the same time, she was already there. She’d already knocked upon the door. She’d made her decision, hadn’t she?

Frowning, Edelgard hugged the soaking wet fabric of her overcoat close to her body and knocked again.

_ knock-knock-knock _

This time, she heard a frantic scuffling come from behind the door. For a moment, the sound was accompanied by a quiet, hurried conversation between two people, and then the one of the two doors that made up the grand double-door entry slowly swung open.

Edelgard squinted against the bright, artificial light that sliced through the darkness.

“Be careful; no one should be coming around this late,” she heard Hilda mutter moments before Marianne’s features, darkened with skepticism but sweet nonetheless, came into view. It appeared to take a second for her to register just who it was that stood upon her doorstep, but as soon as she realized it was Edelgard, the skin around her kind brown eyes crinkled with a smile and she opened the door a little more.

“Why, Detective,” Marianne said coolly, like she hadn’t been suddenly pulled away from her evening activities by an unwanted guest. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon… Is there a problem? A question you forgot to ask, maybe? Or, perhaps,” she glanced over her shoulder, past the door to where Edelgard assumed it was Hilda tittering away with laughter, then returned her steady gaze back to Edelgard, “have you come to ask a  _ favor  _ of us?”

Hilda’s quiet tittering quickly turned into a very unladylike series of snorts. Edelgard drew her brows together in confusion; there was no reason for Marianne’s perfectly reasonable request to garner such a reaction. Then, she cleared her throat and stood up straight: just like a respectable detective asking a favor of two lovely ladies should stand.

“Actually, yes. I do have a favor to request of you.”

Marianne’s eyes widened before taking on a mischievous shine. “And what might that favor be,  _ Detective _ ?”

A shudder rolled down Edelgard’s back at the low, rolling way in which Marianne said her title. People called her that all the time. It was her job. There shouldn’t be any more to the word  _ ‘detective’ _ than that. Yet for all those simple statements, she found herself sweating where she stood.

She cleared her throat again, swallowed nervously. The ladies had been nothing but kind to her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something. Which, of course, made her all the more reluctant to actually bring her conundrum to their feet.

“As you may see,” she said, gesturing towards her soaked clothes and the pool of rainwater that had begun to gather at her feet despite the sturdy awning under which she stood, “I was caught in the rain upon my way home. I have always had something of a troubling constitution, which tends to be exacerbated by prolonged exposure to such unfavorable weather. As such…”

Marianne opened the door a little wider, which allowed Hilda’s equally confusing expression to come into view. A half-empty glass of wine rested in her delicately positioned hand, the scarlet liquid gently swirling around within. At the sight of Edelgard’s slack-jawed face, however, Hilda lifted the glass to her red, red lips, took a sip, and lowered the glass to reveal a surprisingly coquettish grin.

Ah, it all made sense to Edelgard now. There was no longer any wondering why they were acting bizarre; she had seen the symptoms time and time again.

They were drunk. If they were  _ not _ drunk, then they were clearly on their way to being there.

“As such,” Edelgard resumed her plea with a subconscious resettling of her coat, “I was wondering if I could—um, if I could stay the night at your estate.” Not waiting for the ladies’ responses, she hurried to try and assuage any fears that they might have. “I will be as quiet as possible, if not absolutely silent. And, and—”

She reached for her purse, intending to pull out and offer forth what money she happened to have on her person, but Marianne seemed to realize the truth of her pitiful state before she could complete the task.

“Oh no,” she said while swooping towards Edelgard, arms held out wide. Edelgard stiffened as Marianne grabbed hold of her lapels and dragged her into the warmth of the house.

“Detective, you are absolutely  _ soaked _ !” she exclaimed. “Hurry, hurry, come in!” Blue curls bounced as she turned her focus onto Hilda. “Hilda, put down your wine. I’m going to get Edelgard into some dry clothes, get her something warm to drink—you didn’t walk here, did you?” Edelgard’s eyes widened as she realized Marianne had once again shifted the conversation back to her.

“No, no. I have a horse and a buckboard that—”

“Hilda.” Marianne cut her off firmly before leveling a pointed look at Hilda. “Hilda, you go take her horse to the stables.”

“My wine though,” Hilda complained, even as she put her glass down onto one of the decorative tables that lined the entryway. “And it’s  _ cold  _ and  _ wet  _ and absolutely  _ disgusting— _ ”

“And Edelgard just came in from it,” Marianne replied, removing one hand from Edelgard’s lapel so that she could pat Hilda’s cheek. Edelgard startled at the sudden use of her name, but neither of the two women seemed to notice. “I’m going to run her a hot bath and get her some clean clothes. May I have the use of your wardrobe? The two of you are about the same size.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Hilda grumbled incomprehensibly as she took her coat down from the coat rack by the door and slung it over her shoulders. Marianne quickly replaced it with Edelgard’s coat, which she had peeled off of Edelgard with some trouble.

“I’ll make you something to drink, too,” Marianne promised, at which point Hilda brightened considerably.

“I’ll hurry up, then.”

The door swung shut as Hilda disappeared into the darkness. Edelgard hugged herself, the loss of one of her precious layers leaving her feeling very cold and exposed. The thin, near-transparent fabric of her dress shirt clung uncomfortably to her skin.

“Alright, Detective.” Marianne set her hand on Edelgard’s back. “Let’s go get that bath running. That’ll warm you through.” The warmth sparked by her touch radiated across the whole of Edelgard’s skin, quieted the subtle chattering of her teeth, and she found herself smiling in relief.

* * *

As promised, the bath that Marianne drew for her was the perfect thing to put Edelgard back to sorts. There had even been some sort of essence put into the water, some magical blend of vanilla, rose, and a little mint, and as Edelgard submerged herself all the way up to her chin, she decided that she made the right decision.

Had she continued the trip back to the main city, she probably would have ended up a shivering, chattering mess full of pneumonia and influenza. Thanks to the kindness of Hilda and Marianne, however, there she was: warm, comforted, and secure in the promise of dry clothes and a hot drink once she was done in the tub.

Yet she couldn’t shake the sense of peculiarity that surrounded the situation. It was odd that they had been so readily accepting of her, the detective who was determined to prove that Hilda was responsible for the death of Lord Acheron, and had so quickly opened their home to her. She was grateful, yes, but there was something she didn’t trust about the course of the night’s events.

As it was, however, she’d been in the bath for quite some time now, and the water had begun to cool. She was reluctant to rise and step out of the tub, but she knew that if she lingered for too long, the bath that she’d taken would end up doing more harm than good.

The water sloughed off of her body as Edelgard rose and stepped out of the tub. Her feet seemed to sink inches into the thick, impossibly plush bath mat that greeted her, and she buried her face in a similarly luxurious towel that had been left out for her before beginning to dry herself off. When she was dry enough to justify stepping off of the bathmat, she reached for the clothes that had been neatly folded by Marianne before being set by the mirror.

A strange sense of homeliness settled over her as she pulled the soft sweater over her head and pulled her hair out from beneath it. The smell was unfamiliar, as were all items that had been laundered in a different fashion, but she’d grown acquainted enough with the smell of the Goneril estate that it wasn’t an unsettling difference. 

The sweater itself, however, was surprisingly large for something that she expected to have been pulled from Hilda’s closest. It hung from her thin frame in such a way that left her feeling like she was drowning in the fabric. She was drowning, but to her surprise, she was unbothered by it. If anything, she was pleased by the fact that if she let the sleeves dangle to their full length, they fully covered her arms and hands alike.

She searched for a brush for her hair and found none, so she had to suffice for combing her fingers through her pale locks and wringing what water she could out of them before letting it hang in long, limp strands to dry. Then, with a silent prayer of thanks to Marianne for the dry change of undergarments and a dogged determination to not think about where they’d come from, she slipped into them before finishing the bizarre ensemble with a loose-flowing pair of warm and comfortable pants.

When she was done, her reflection in the cloudy mirror looked back at her with dark-rimmed eyes and a wan expression. On a whim, Edelgard poked at her cheeks, pushing them up into a silly, clownish smile and letting them fall back into place a few times before she sighed and let her hands rest on her cheeks.

_ What am I doing? _ she wondered to her equally silent reflection. She was procrastinating, that was what. The longer she stayed in the warm, steam-clouded bathroom, the less time she’d have to spend with the two women she was imposing upon. It wasn’t as though they made her uncomfortable, no. If anything, she got a perverse feeling of enjoyment from their undue and unwarranted attentions.

Surely if she were a man, she would have been delighted by the amount of attention she was being given by the misses. What’s more, she would have been able to understand  _ why  _ they were lavishing it upon her. Yet as the woman she was, all she could feel was a pervading sense of unrest.

Which only left her with one question more: if spending time with Marianne and Hilda filled her with so many conflicting feelings, why did she feel so eager to return to their sides?

Was this the joy of female friendship?

That had to be it, Edelgard concluded, and she left the bathroom with a renewed sense of confidence.

* * *

Marianne seemed to have been waiting for her for a while, if the half-empty state of her teacup was anything to go by, but she didn’t seem to be too perturbed by the wait. She beamed at Edelgard as she walked into the sitting room, and Edelgard immediately felt welcome in her presence.

“Did you have a nice bath?” Marianne asked, leaning forward in her seat to set her teacup down on the saucer on the coffee-table before her. Two more cups of steaming liquid sat on the table beside it, but they remained untouched. “Hilda insisted upon also having a bath once she came back inside from stabling your horse, so she’ll be joining us shortly.”

Edelgard snorted quietly as she crossed her sweater-clad arms over her equally sweater-clad chest. She wasn’t incredibly surprised by Marianne’s news; Hilda was undoubtedly someone who appreciated the more comfortable things in life— _ especially  _ when those comforts had already been extended to someone in her vicinity.

“I’m sorry for setting that precedent,” Edelgard said as she moved to sit down in the loveseat that Marianne motioned for her to take. “It must have been a lot of work for you to draw two baths so soon after one another.”

“It was nothing.” Marianne chuckled. “I enjoy doting upon the people I’m fond of.” Then, she pushed one of the full cups across the table, and Edelgard took the teacup in her hands gratefully. Cocoa was a rarity in the office she shared with Ferdinand and Hubert, as the three of them were often fully fueled by black coffee and impossibly strong tea, but as Edelgard took a sip of the sweet, creamy drink, she found herself enjoying it. Warmth blossomed in her chest, and she smiled at Marianne.

“This is delicious,” she said. Marianne smiled in turn.

“I’m glad you think so. Cocoa is a little sweet for my taste, but Hilda drinks it by the gallon, so I thought I’d take my chances.”

“Did I hear cocoa?” Hilda bounced into the sitting room with a resplendent smile, and coming up behind the settee Marianne was sitting on, she wrapped her arms lightly around the other woman’s neck. Marianne gently patted Hilda’s arm, and Hilda set her chin on top of Marianne’s head. “I  _ love _ cocoa! Marianne, you’re the absolute  _ best. _ ”

Marianne gave Edelgard a pointed look upon hearing Hilda’s declaration, and Edelgard chuckled at the sight. Hilda seemed to soak up the attention Marianne and Edelgard were giving her, and she pressed a little kiss onto Marianne’s cheek. Something shifted sharply in Edelgard’s chest; she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have such a close friend. Not as surrounded by men as she was.

Hilda’s attention turned to Edelgard with all of the intensity of a searchlight. “Oh my god,” she crooned, “Your hair is so pretty! Do you like,  _ ever  _ leave it down? Every time you’ve been here, it’s been up like some old lady.” She blanched as the implications of her statement settled over the room. Edelgard lifted a brow, not sure if she should be insulted by what could only be a reference to her platinum hair.

“It’s not that your hair makes you look old!” Hilda tripped over her words in her rush to get them out. “Your hair is actually like,  _ really  _ pretty! But you always put it up in that bun at like, the back of your neck, so we don’t actually get to see how absolutely  _ stunning  _ it is!”

“I put my hair up like that sometimes,” Marianne said quietly, “and you don’t call  _ me  _ old.”

Hilda nuzzled her cheek against Marianne’s with a sappy smile. “I  _ know  _ what you look like with your hair down, Mari. And you’re absolutely  _ gorgeous. _ ”

With an appeased smile, Marianne reached up and gently pat Hilda’s head. Edelgard pulled her feet up onto the loveseat with her, drew herself up into a little smaller of a ball in the face of their friendship and took a sip of the intensely sweet drink in her hands.

A murmured conversation passed between the two women opposite her, Marianne twisting her finger around a slender lock of blue hair as Hilda smiled. Without another word, Hilda threw herself over the back of the settee and, taking a seat immediately beside Marianne, plunged her hands into the thick waves of Marianne’s hair as soon as Marianne turned to give her proper access.

From across the coffee table, Edelgard tried to keep track of the intricate way in which Hilda’s hands moved. Over, under, over under—it looked incredibly simple from afar, but Edelgard knew that the calm, metered way in which Hilda picked up and dropped strands of hair in creating Marianne’s braided coiffure. At some point, Hilda fastened off a portion of hair with a tie that she’d pulled out from somewhere, then began to brush her fingers through the loose strands of hair that had fallen down from Marianne’s updo.

“That looks like it feels nice,” Edelgard remarked with a little tilt of her head. Hilda’s jaw dropped, and Marianne’s hair fell from her hands.

“Has no one ever done your hair before?” Hilda whispered, horrified. After a little glance at Hilda’s face, Marianne’s face soon adopted a similar expression.

“No?” Edelgard replied with a quiet, self-conscious chuckle. “I live alone, and my coworkers are both men.” Though to be fair, she did have to acknowledge that Ferdinand probably could have done her hair if she’d ever asked. Not that she ever would; Ferdinand would forever lord his ‘exceptional skill’ over her if she did.

And besides…she couldn’t think of a time before that very moment in which she had ever wanted someone to do her hair.

“Detective.” Hilda smacked her lips, frowning like she’d eaten something unpleasant. Then, drawing her thick pink braid over her hair and running her hands down it repeatedly, she leaned forwards with a slowly growing smile. “No, Edelgard.  _ Edelgard,  _ can I please, pretty please do your hair?”

She pushed her lower lip out in a pout, and Edelgard found that what little resolve to say ‘no’ that she might have had completely dissipated. She  _ wanted  _ this. Even if she didn't entirely understand what 'this' was, she wanted it with a slow, rolling, burning desire.

"Yes," she said, finding that her tongue felt numb and heavy as she let the words fall. "You may, Miss Goneril."

Hilda’s frown grew. Edelgard found that that desire only began to grow stronger as Hilda stood up and, sidestepping the table, came over by Edelgard. The springs creaked as Hilda sat down beside her on the loveseat, and she pushed her way into Edelgard’s face with that same pout from before.

“It’s just us ladies here,” she murmured. “You can drop the formalities. My name’s Hilda, remember?  _ Hillllda. _ Try it.”

Something in Edelgard’s chest began to flutter; she looked to Marianne for an indication of what she should do. Marianne just lifted her eyebrows above her cup of tea as she took a sip. Edelgard quickly realized that she would find no help there, and turned her attention back to Hilda, who had begun to twirl her finger through Edelgard’s long hair.

“Hil—I, uh—um…” Edelgard tried to form her lips around Hilda’s name, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make herself say the name. It was one thing to allow her top suspect to do her hair; it was something entirely different for her to drop the formalities that separated them. “Miss Goneril, I can’t.”

“Mm, alright. If I can’t convince you to call me by my name, I guess ‘Miss Goneril’ will have to do.” Hilda sighed dramatically as she motioned for Edelgard to turn around. Obediently, curious about what Hilda would do, Edelgard did so. “Makes me sound like an old spinster, don’cha think?”

“You  _ are  _ something of an old spinster though,” Marianne pointed out, gesturing with her teacup as she giggled into her hand. “Your marriage didn’t end well, you live alone with a lady friend, and—”

“Oh, hush!” Out of the corner of Edelgard’s eye, she saw Hilda wave her friend off. It sounded like Marianne had insinuated something that Hilda hadn’t quite liked, but as she picked through their words, she found that she didn’t actually understand. Marianne was simply stating facts, wasn’t she?

If Hilda or Marianne said anything more, Edelgard soon lost track of the conversation. Instead, however, she found herself keenly aware of the fact that Hilda’s spindly fingers were moving through her hair, picking it up, moving it around, interweaving it in some unseen and mysterious way.

That being said, the experience was far from the relaxing event that Marianne’s expression had indicated it would be. Edelgard couldn’t bring herself to relax, despite Hilda’s occasional crooned suggestion that she do so, and so she sat ramrod-straight despite the natural curve of her seat’s cushion. Her core muscles began to ache. Her head began to throb from the effort of keeping every muscle as stiff as stone.

Even so… she could not deny that there was something appealing about the way Hilda’s surprisingly short nails scraped against her scalp. She liked the way Hilda played with her hair, how she twisted and turned it in a way that her hair had never been put up before. And while Hilda sat behind her, she found herself pleasantly overwhelmed by the sweet, floral perfume that surrounded her.

It was the same scent as the soap she herself had used a little while ago, Edelgard realized, and she pressed her lips together in a tight smile. She would have to ask where they got their soap from, it seemed, as something about the scent was absolutely entrancing.

Distantly, Hilda said something, and Edelgard blinked herself back into the moment at hand.

“What did you say?” she asked, turning to look over her shoulder. Hilda smiled and patted her back.

“I said that I’m all done with your hair.” Hilda lifted the two braids into which Edelgard’s hair had been divided and let them fall down the front of Edelgard’s sweater. “Good thing I had a couple of bows on me, or one braid would have totally fallen apart as soon as I went to start on the other. Your hair is just really soft. Do you do a lot with it? Besides like, your weird bun thing. Obviously.”

“It’s a chignon.” Edelgard said defensively as she clutched her teacup of cocoa close to her chest. “It’s professional.”

“It’s old-timey,” Hilda rebutted.

“It’s  _ elegant, _ ” Marianne cut in with a kind expression. “And, like the detective said, it’s professional. It suits her.” Edelgard looked to Marianne gratefully, but to her surprise, the woman simply winked at her. Confused, Edelgard quickly averted her gaze.

“Thank you, Miss von Edmund,” she mumbled as she took a sip of her warm drink, “your compliment is appreciated.”

“Of course.” Marianne canted her head in Edelgard’s direction. “You are a very lovely woman, Detective. Personally speaking, I think that any sort of hairstyle would suit you well. Why, even the way it was before Hilda got her hands into it was very graceful.”

Edelgard flushed at the continued series of compliments. She wasn’t particularly insecure concerning her hair. If anything, she was proud of it, and took great care to ensure that it was in the best condition possible. To hear that it  _ suited  _ her, however, that it made her look  _ graceful _ … She opened her mouth to return the compliment, to say something about how Marianne’s own blue locks made her look regal and serene, but Hilda cut in before she could get the words out. 

“But it looks better now that I’ve finished playing with it. Right?” A sudden chill trailed down Edelgard’s spine as Hilda leaned in close to the nape of her neck, the sweetness of her warm breath billowing down the back of her sweater. Edelgard jumped up from her seat at this unexpected contact, and she set her cup down on its saucer with a loud rattle.

“I would like to go to bed now,” Edelgard announced. “Good night, ladies. Thank you for allowing me to stay the night.” She turned stiffly to nod to Hilda, who slumped down against the back of the loveseat as she pouted. Before she could turn and do the same for Marianne, the slender woman set down her own drink and stood up alongside her.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Marianne said as she walked to the sitting room entryway, gesturing for Edelgard to come and follow her. With a grateful sigh, Edelgard did just that. She hadn’t really considered where she was going to sleep, so having that guidance without asking for it was appreciated.

“See you in the morning!” Hilda called out after the two as they left the sitting room. “Sweet dreams, Detective!” Edelgard sighed.

Together, Edelgard and Marianne walked in silence down the creaky hallway. Paintings and sepia-toned photographs lined the walls along their path, which Edelgard took note of. Several photos starred what appeared to be a young Hilda surrounded by her father and her brother. Edelgard took special interest in the single portrait featuring Hilda’s mother, heavily pregnant and embraced by the two men of her family.

As they walked on, however, there were even more surprises to be found. Marianne seemed to appear in the photos just as often as Hilda did. In most of the pictures, she stood alongside Hilda, but there were one or two of just Marianne. It was clear that the two of them had been impossibly close from an incredibly young age. However, Edelgard was just a little too occupied with the thought of going to bed to interrogate Marianne about her unexpectedly large presence among the collection of Goneril memorabilia.

“And here’s where I put your belongings while you bathed,” Marianne said just a little further down the hallway as she pushed a door open to reveal a guest bedroom. “That is, except for the clothes you were wearing. Those, I have hanging up in the kitchen to dry.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Miss von Edmund,” Edelgard replied with a quick, grateful dip of her head. “I’ll make sure to get out of your way as soon as possible come morning.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Marianne said with a gentle tilt of her head, a smile gracing her lips. “As you can see, we have many,  _ many  _ other guests to contend with.”

Edelgard chuckled. A housekeeper came around every few days, but aside from that, it was obviously just Hilda and Marianne in the Goneril estate. She had the feeling that they preferred it like that, which made it all the more curious why they had greeted her with open arms. “Yes. Good night.”

Marianne stepped back out into the hallway, and Edelgard closed the door before her, the tumblers of the lock turning with a loud, audible  _ click  _ as she secured herself into the room for the night.

If she was to be staying the night with a murderess, she wasn’t planning to make it easy for whichever of them it was to break into her room and end her as well.

There was so much about the two women that she didn’t understand—that she  _ couldn’t  _ understand. Why they would accept her intrusion so easily. Why they were seemingly so at ease in her presence. Why they were—why they were so  _ intent _ upon flaunting the closeness of their friendship before her. Was the guilt of Lord Acheron’s death weighing upon them so heavily that they were deliberately trying to indicate their culpability in the matter?

She found all of these questions—and more—circling her head like buzzards. When flipping through her notebook in an attempt to piece together the truth of her situation proved unhelpful, she changed into the nightgown that Marianne had laid out upon the bed and crawled under the covers.

Sleep took a long time to come for her. When it did, though, Edelgard found that it washed over her with the unmistakable scent of rose, vanilla, and mint.

* * *

_ Edelgard’s toes curled in the air, her hips pressing hard against the sturdy oaken table as her back arched in ecstasy. Her knees hung off the edge of the table, her nails scrabbled against the lacquered wood as she searched, desperately, for some sort of purchase. Biting down on her lower lip somewhat suppressed her moans of building pleasure, but it seemed that her partner was unsatisfied by her display of restraint. _

_ “C’mon, E-del-gard,” Hilda urged, her breath hot against the slick coating Edelgard’s inner thighs. “If I’m gonna put this much effort in for you, I might as well get something out of it.” _

_ Hilda paused, then drew her hand away from the apex of Edelgard’s thighs. Her fingers glistened in the light, and she contemplated the sight with a raised brow before brushing her fingers against her glazed lips. “Mm, yeah. I’m gonna need a little more out of you, okay?” _

_ Edelgard gasped, her mouth opening wide as Hilda resumed her work. While her fingers steadily swirled around Edelgard’s clit, building a rhythm to which Edelgard found her very heart beating, Hilda pulled herself up onto the table and straddled Edelgard’s body. Hilda leaned over her, long pink hair tickling Edelgard’s bare chest as Hilda nibbled her way across the sensitive skin at her clavicle. _

_ “Aren’t you going to say something?” Hilda asked, pulling away from her ministrations with a pout. Edelgard shook her head, her chest heaving. It was all she could do to keep her wits about her. Hilda frowned. “We’ll have to do something about that.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Sweatergard! It's what she deserves. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! ❤︎


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard is forcefully prepared for her day at the Goneril estate by the whirlwind known as Hilda. Marianne is used to tempering her companion, fortunately, but somehow Edelgard still finds herself... exposed.

The gentle sound of rain against the grand windows covering up the majority of the dining room walls was a pleasant backdrop to Edelgard’s simple breakfast of eggs and buttered toast. It brought a certain peace to her soul as she ate, she found, a peace that she sorely needed after the night before.

It was not that she had been given unpleasant quarters. The sheets had been clean. The blanket had been warm. The mattress had been soft. Nothing about the guest room had indicated she would receive anything other than a pleasant night’s sleep.

Yet despite all of the environment being in her favor, Edelgard had woken up feeling sweaty, hot, and particularly bothered. Gone was the refreshing way that she’d felt after the warm bath that Marianne had provided her with the night before. She’d done her best to cool herself down with the aid of a wet washcloth, which had certainly helped on the physical side of things, but there was something about the night before that left her feeling dirty. Unclean. Like she’d been caught in the midst of doing something wrong.

Even so, as she reached for her slightly sweetened tea and inhaled the fragrant bergamot before taking a sip, she could not deny that she had woken up with a smile upon her lips. She knew that for certain, though she had no clue as to  _ why. _

Her silent contemplation was soon interrupted by the sound of her hosts entering the dining room.

“I hope you slept well,” Marianne said as she yawned, one hand covering her mouth. With the other, she gave Edelgard a sleepy wave of greeting. Sitting down across the table from Edelgard and patting down her dove-grey dress, she continued speaking. “I certainly did. I always seem to sleep better when it is raining and I know that all my loved ones are safe.”

She smiled at Edelgard, who politely smiled back before taking another sip of tea. Hilda trailed in lethargically behind Marianne, carrying another teacup and saucer, and set it down on the table before her companion as soon as she stood right behind her. Marianne murmured something to Hilda with a smile before grasping her face and bringing her in to gently kiss her cheek. Flushing at the unexpected show of affection, Edelgard coughed into her tea and deliberately tore her eyes away.

When Edelgard turned back, Hilda had once more draped her arms over Marianne’s shoulders and was gently swaying there. It seemed to be a favorite position of hers, Edelgard noted, as she’d done almost the same thing on Marianne during their time in the sitting room the night before. “Morning, Edelgard,” Hilda said, her half-asleep expression only accentuated by her half-lidded eyes and lazily sprawling smile. “You sleep good?”

“I just asked her the same thing,” Marianne hushed her quietly. “Give the poor dear a chance to say something, won’t you?” 

“I slept very well,” Edelgard hurried to assure them. “I’m not very used to sleeping in any beds other than my own, so the fact that I could sleep at all was… somewhat remarkable.” It wasn’t her hostess’ fault that she had woken up in such an undignified manner.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hilda piped up. “’Cause I  _ really  _ don’t think you’ll be heading home today, either.” Peeling herself off of Marianne, Hilda walked over to the curtain-covered windows and pulled them open. Just as the sound of the rain against the glass had suggested, it seemed as though the storm from the night before had continued into the morning.

As if on cue, thunder rumbled ominously. Hilda shuddered and let the curtains fall shut. “Yeah. No. Sorry, Miss Detective, but I think you should stick around for another night.” She clucked her tongue. “ _ Especially  _ if you get sick easily.”

Edelgard sighed as she stared at the closed window. As preferable as it would be to return home right away, she couldn’t deny that Hilda had a point. She couldn’t risk becoming bedridden, not when even the simplest of illnesses threatened to wipe her out for weeks on end. 

“And the two of you are  _ certain  _ that my presence wouldn’t be an imposition?” she asked, returning her gaze to Hilda, who had claimed the seat beside Marianne’s. “If I could stay for one night more, I would appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course you can stay!” Marianne said, even as Hilda blurted out, “Duh! I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t.” Hilda giggled as she and Marianne met each other’s eyes in response to the way in which they’d spoken over each other. “Jinx!” she said. “You owe me something nice.”

“My undying affection isn’t enough for you?” Marianne asked with a little laugh as she lifted her tea from the table before her. “What more could you possibly want from me?”

“I can think of a few things,” Hilda said in a low voice, leaning in and twirling a lock of Marianne’s hair around her finger. A flush came to Marianne’s cheeks, and she whispered something in return.

Edelgard cleared her throat. She wanted to be a good guest, unobtrusive and polite, but seeing the close friendship between the two women made her feel a little left out. Which, she realized as Marianne and Hilda turned to look at her, was  _ incredibly  _ unprofessional of her.

Hurriedly, she searched her mind for a plausible reason for interrupting their conversation.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” she said slowly, hesitantly, in an attempt to give herself time to think, “I—I would, ah…” Nervously, she plucked at the cuff of her sweater sleeve. And then, it struck her.

“I understand if it would be too much of an imposition,” she finally said, “but could I possibly borrow some clothes for the day? Mine have yet to dry entirely, and as comfortable as the sweater from last night is…” Lost for words, she trailed off. Hopefully, her hosts would find her silence to be meaningful, as opposed to rude.

To her relief, that seemed to be the case.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe we forgot to get you something for today!” Hilda stood up suddenly enough that her chair would have fallen over if she hadn’t immediately reached back to catch it. “You want something else to wear, right? Right?” She looked at Marianne accusatorily. “Mari, I can’t believe you wouldn’t have put something out for her to wear in the morning! That sweater is  _ super  _ cute, sure, but she needs something cute for  _ today _ !”

Marianne rolled her eyes. She didn’t seem too bothered by Hilda’s accusations, which Edelgard took to mean that she had heard it several times before. “Can I finish my tea first, at least?” she asked. “I would like to have this cup before it goes cold, like last night’s did.”

“Absolutely not!” Hilda gasped, almost exaggeratedly offended. “This is an  _ emergency _ !”

“It’s really not,” Edelgard hurried to interject. “Please, Ms. von Edmund, take your time. It’s not that important.”

“That’s a lie!” Hilda pointed at Edelgard, who shrunk back against her seat with her tea as a flush began to spread across her face. “Marianne, that is a lie! She is  _ lying _ ! This is an  _ emergency _ . She just doesn’t want you to feel bad because you’re so nice!”

Marianne’s mouth opened and closed a few times; soon her face began to mirror the color of Edelgard’s own. “You go ahead and show her your wardrobe, Hilda,” she said, lifting her teacup close enough to her face that Edelgard could ostensibly blame the growing redness on the heat of the tea itself and not her best friend’s words. “I’ll come join you after I, um, drink a little bit of tea. I’m just thirsty, Hilda.”

“Mm,” Hilda hummed, swooping over to gently kiss Marianne’s cheek, as Marianne had done for her just a short while ago. “Aren’t we all.”

Edelgard nodded in understanding. When she woke up in the morning, the first thing she usually did was find something to drink. Seeing as how Marianne seemed to have just woken up and her every attempt to drink the tea Hilda had set down before her had been interrupted, it made sense that Marianne would be a little frustrated. “Is that alright with you, Ms. Goneril?” she asked, despite directing the question toward the both of them.

“Oh, don’t be stupid! It’s  _ obviously  _ fine with me!” Hilda waved off Edelgard’s concerns with just a flick of her wrist before beckoning Edelgard to join her at the dining room entrance. “How often do I get to play dress-up with such a pretty lady? Present company excluded, Marianne. Don’t get mad.”

Marianne just chuckled. Edelgard pressed her lips together and found that staring into the depths of her morning tea was much easier than responding to Hilda’s well-intentioned compliment. As soon as she drained her cup of tea to the final dregs, though, she stacked up her dishware and began to pick it up. However, Marianne lifted her hand to stop her.

“Leave your dishes there; I’ll take care of them.”

“Oh.” Edelgard froze with her hands hovering just above her clutter. “Are you sure, Miss von Edmund?”

“Of course.” Her smile was kind, and Edelgard found that any guilt she had was soon appeased. “You go and have some fun with Hilda, hm? I’ll come and join you a little while later.”

With a deep inhalation, Edelgard nodded. And, rising from her seat, she joined Hilda at the door.

“Lead the way, Miss—” she began, but before she could finish her sentence, Hilda grabbed her hand and practically dragged her down the hallway.

“So like, I know you looked around when you first got here, right?” Hilda said. “But I bet it’s kinda different when you’re actually  _ staying  _ here for a little while, huh?”

“Actually,” Edelgard corrected her, albeit somewhat breathlessly thanks to the quick pace at which Hilda was bringing her along after her, “it was my partner who looked around. I stayed in the sitting room with you two and mostly asked questions.”

“Oh, right. Your  _ partner. _ ” Hilda said the words like they were sour and particularly unpleasant. “The tall, shady guy with a stick permanently lodged up his ass, right?”

Edelgard tried not to laugh at the description of Hubert. Accurate as it was, it far from painted the image of professionalism that she always strove to portray when speaking about the men she worked with. However, she was unable to hold back her amusement entirely. “Yes, that’s him!” she said, a surprising giggle leaking into her voice despite her great effort to prevent it. “Hubert was the one who looked around. We find that his eye for details is very convenient when it comes to discovering vital clues, even if his demeanor can occasionally…  _ impede  _ a line of questioning which might have otherwise gone well.”

A stick permanently lodged up his ass. She tucked the descriptor away in the back of her mind for later; while Hubert in all his staidness would likely find it properly insulting, she had the feeling that Ferdinand would be particularly pleased by Hilda’s colorful language.

“Right, right.” Hilda took a gentle turn along the hallway, her slippers practically silent against the rug which ran along the ground. “And this Hubert guy, your partner—it’s not like, anything other than business, right? I’ve heard of husbands and wives going into business together. I don’t think I could do that with a guy.”

“Miss Goneril!” Now, it was Edelgard’s turn to sound horrified. It was one thing to call Hubert out for his stoic nature and unfazeable personality. It was something entirely different, however, to insinuate that they were—she shuddered at the thought— _ sleeping together.  _ “Miss Goneril, I do not appreciate your implications. Hubert—Mr. von Vestra, that is to you—and I are nothing but the very dearest of friends! We’ve been together since—why, since infancy!”

She took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to prevent herself from sputtering. She did not like getting so up at arms, but she could not allow her dear Hubert to be so slandered! It had nothing to do with the fact that she could not even  _ imagine  _ being…  _ together  _ with someone such as him! “Surely you of all people would understand! Miss Goneril, I have seen the pictures of you and Miss von Edmund as children together, and the two of you are the closest companions I have ever seen in my life. I do not think our situations are all that different.”

“Oh, you’re  _ adorable _ !” Hilda did not seem to value emotional restraint in the same way Edelgard did, for she let her laughter flow freely. Edelgard’s face went hot with embarrassment. “You’re partners, but not like,  _ partner _ -partners. I get it now.” Halting in front of a door that Edelgard could only assume to lead to her room, she looked at Edelgard with a smile and squeezed her hand. “I’m not trying to make fun of you, Edelgard. I just think you’ve got a couple misconceived notions, okay? Please don’t be mad at me.”

Edelgard furrowed her brow in confusion. A few misconceived notions? What could she possibly misunderstand by means of relating the friendship between her and Hubert to the one between Hilda and Marianne? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she and Hubert were not housemates, as Hilda and Marianne were. They worked together, ate together, and on those rare occasions where they were working on a particularly complicated case from which they could not pull themselves away, slept together in the office. To her relief, however, she found that she was not terribly upset with Hilda at all now that she’d explained herself.

“I’m not.” Edelgard tried to smile reassuringly. To her relief, Hilda didn’t seem to be upset with her either, and simply let Edelgard’s hand go after one more slight squeeze.

“Alright!” Hilda chirped, clapping her hands together as her expression took a turn for the impish. Edelgard narrowed her eyes with suspicion, but Hilda brushed off her concern easily. “Well, here’s my room! Go ahead and let yourself in, okay?”

Edelgard tilted her head to the side. Why couldn’t Hilda open the door herself? She was closer, after all—if only by a little bit—and wouldn’t it be the proper thing for Hilda to do as her host? Hilda said nothing to assuage her confusion, however, and just smiled brighter as she gestured for Edelgard to open the door.

Edelgard tried the knob. It moved a little bit, but even after putting her entire weight into the motion, the door refused to open. She turned to Hilda pleadingly, confused as to why she would choose to claim a room with a door that wouldn’t open.

Hilda laughed. The sound, which was light and bubbly in comparison to Marianne’s quiet gift of a laugh, sparked a warmth in Edelgard’s chest.

“There’s a trick to it, actually,” she said with a little toss of her head before leaning in and placing her hand over Edelgard’s. “It’s been like this since I was a kid. You’ve gotta like…”

Her voice faded out of focus as Edelgard watched her fiddle with the doorknob. Hilda’s hands were so interesting to her. While she was very vocal about the fact that she hated doing any work, and made a constant fuss about keeping her skin soft, Hilda’s hands were still covered in callouses.  _ Why would she have such prominent callouses? _ Edelgard wondered. She wanted to hold Hilda’s hands in her own, feel the callouses over, and try to figure out just what they came from.

The door swung open, breaking Edelgard out of her reverie with a surprised blink.

“…and that’s how you get it!” Hilda squeezed Edelgard’s hand before letting it go.

“I didn’t really see what you did,” Edelgard admitted, saddened by the fact that Hilda had pulled her hand away. It was drafty in the house, after all, and Hilda was warm. “Could you show me again?”

“Sure,” Hilda laughed as she returned the door to its closed position. “Just for you though, okay?”

Edelgard, though disappointed that Hilda hadn’t placed her hand over hers to show her again, watched intensely as Hilda jiggled the doorknob for a few seconds while simultaneously pressing on a point on the door a few inches away from the knob. Hilda looked at her with a carefully sculpted brow lifted high.

“You catch it this time?” she asked, and as soon as Edelgard nodded in confirmation, she let the door swing open once more. “Well, there’s the trick. You’re more than welcome to look around if you want, but I’d like to stick around here just in case.” She winked. “Just make sure you don’t start going through my lingerie without me in there with you, alright?”

Edelgard nodded as she stepped into the room, lifting her hand to guard against the bright sunlight that streamed in through a large window situated above a window-seat. “Of course, Miss Goneril,” she said, “that makes perfect sense. I can’t think of anyone who would appreciate having their intimate apparel rifled through by a complete stranger.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call you a  _ complete  _ stranger at this point,” Hilda said in a voice slightly deeper than usual as she reached out to set a delicate hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “Why, Marianne and I would almost consider you a dear friend by now.”

Edelgard shrugged in acknowledgement of her point before brushing Hilda’s hand off of her shoulder. She’d been rooting around in Hilda and Marianne’s business for a little while now; she wasn’t wholly surprised by the fact that they might have become a  _ little  _ fond of her by that point.

Though if she gave it a little thought—it  _ was  _ somewhat odd that they’d become fond of someone who was so doggedly attempting to prove that Hilda had been responsible for the death of Lord Acheron. There probably wasn’t any actual affection behind their actions; they were merely trying to distract her from her task at hand. Why they thought they’d be successful, however, she wasn’t sure.

“Normally,” Hilda continued, “the only person I’d let in my underwear would be Marianne. For you, however…” Her eyes, bright with laughter, slid towards the door. “I think I’d be willing to make an exception.” Edelgard followed her gaze to see that Marianne, who had finally followed them in from the dining room, was having some kind of issue.

Marianne’s hands were clapped over her mouth, and her eyes bulged with some sort of effort as her shoulders shook forcefully. Edelgard immediately forewent her casual investigation of the room in favor of checking on the other woman. “Are you alright?” she asked worriedly, finding that she was subconsciously mimicking Hilda’s gesture from earlier as she set her hand on Marianne’s trembling shoulder. “Miss Goneril, Miss von Edmund seems to be struggling to breathe.”

Hilda, for some reason, did not seem to be at all concerned by the current turn of events. If anything, her smile only grew wider at the sight of Marianne’s flushed cheeks. “Oh, that happens now and again. It’s usually when we’re going over underwear, but sometimes it happens when we’re going over nothing at all.”

Marianne began to cough then, and she turned away from Hilda and Edelgard, hiding her expression in the process. “Did you finish off your tea?” Edelgard asked innocently, concern roughing her voice. “Perhaps having something more to drink would help with—ah, with whatever is going on.”

“Yeah, Mari.” Hilda piped up from behind. “Are you sure you’re not just thirsty?”

Marianne choked again. Edelgard looked back at Hilda with a disapproving expression. How was she taking her friend’s condition so lightly? Marianne didn’t seem to be too upset by Hilda’s lack of concern however, despite her initial reaction, so she didn’t push further.

“Anyway!” Hilda strode across the room to the large wooden wardrobe that took up a large portion of the space. Flinging the doors open wide, she revealed an innumerable amount of dresses. They were all the colors of the rainbow, and all featured different cuts, delicate embellishments, and were all a great deal more expensive than anything she had cause to wear Edelgard had to note that, despite the wide variety in colors before her, the vast majority of the clothes that immediately caught her eye were various shades of pink. Hilda would be Hilda, it seemed, and the old money provided to her by the even older blood of the Goneril family name was enough to provide her a comfortable life even after the death of her husband.

She had yet to determine just why Hilda would kill the man, then, if it was not for money—as it obviously was not.

Thankfully, Edelgard had the presence of mind to refrain from bringing up her lingering suspicions regarding Hilda’s culpability. There was a time and a place for all things, and considering the surprisingly determined way in which Hilda had begun to pull Edelgard’s sweater up over her head and off of her body, this happened to be neither.

“Please, don’t!” Edelgard said as she batted Hilda’s eager hands away from her. Stepping back, Hilda held her hands up in surrender. Her eyes widened with crocodilian tears, and her lower lip grew into a full, plush pout.

“I just wanna see what I have to work with,” she whimpered. “How else am I gonna know what’s hiding under that giant sweater! It’s huge! It’s—it’s like you’re wearing a  _ flour sack _ !”

“It’s a _very_ _comfortable_ flour sack,” Edelgard amended, “which happens to hide anything that I don’t want everyone staring at!”

Marianne, who seemed to have finally recovered from her coughing fit, set her hands upon Edelgard’s shoulders from behind. Edelgard fought the instinct to jump at the sudden contact, but she settled into Marianne’s touch as soon as she realized who had crept up behind her. “How about we let her undress in your bathroom, Hilda?” she suggested. Edelgard followed her gesture towards the off-set door within Hilda’s bedroom, which she took to be the bathroom in question. “Then, after you find something for her to wear and not before,  _ then  _ we can help her get dressed if it’s something so complicated that she cannot dress herself.”

Stepping forward, Marianne offered her a comforting smile. Her hand twitched by her side, like she’d been considering possibly taking Edelgard’s hand before ultimately deciding against it. Edelgard did not know why that concept bothered her so. “I think that would be preferable for all parties involved. Don’t you, Edelgard?”

Edelgard broke her gaze away from Marianne’s hand, reluctantly, and looked back up between the two women standing around her. Already, Hilda was rooting through her wardrobe for something for Edelgard to wear, and Marianne just stood at her side with a warm smile that Edelgard wanted to wrap herself up in.

“I think that would be alright,” she finally said, wincing at the low mumble in which her words came out. She didn’t like being this unsure, this  _ uncertain  _ of herself. It didn’t help that even the  _ thought  _ of Hilda and Marianne’s presences, kind and affirming as they were, made it impossible for her to find firm footing. And it  _ really  _ didn’t help that the pleasant way in which her given name had fallen from Marianne’s gently curving lips left her feeling some sort of way that she couldn’t explain.

“Do you think we should start with three, or five?” Hilda asked as she poked her head out from behind the wardrobe door. “I know pink isn’t _exactly_ your color, Edelgard; it’d probably wash you out like nothing else. But I’ve got a couple others that I think you’d look absolutely _stunning_ in! And you should definitely try them on.”

Marianne chuckled and shook her head. “How about we start with  _ one, _ Hilda? I think that poor Edelgard here is getting a little overwhelmed.” She patted Edelgard’s back. Despite the thick sweater that Edelgard wore, it felt like electricity radiated across her skin at the contact. Edelgard smiled weakly. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll bring in the first dress as soon as Hilda over there can actually pick one out for you.”

“It’s a very difficult decision!” Hilda called out from her position, half-buried among the clothing. “This sets the precedent for the entire day!”

“The rain hasn’t already done that?” Edelgard asked, even as Marianne guided her towards the bathroom door.

“Hilda’s very fastidious about this sort of thing,” Marianne assured her. Then, lowering her voice, she added, “Even if you or I don’t find it to be that important, she’s learned that appearances can occasionally be the thing to make or break a situation. Please don’t think less of her for it.”

“What do you mean?” Edelgard walked backwards into the bathroom, but Marianne’s smile simply filled with sympathy before she closed the bathroom door behind her and Edelgard was left alone in the bathroom with nothing more than the usual bathroom amenities, Hilda’s litany of toiletries, and her thoughts.

In the simplest of motions, she sloughed off the sweater that Marianne had provided for her just a short night ago. Already, it felt like so many more hours had passed than actually had. As she folded the sweater up and set it in a reverential place upon the vanity, it crossed her mind that she’d forgotten to ask about whom the sweater had once belonged to. It would have to wait, however, and she could only hope that she’d remember to ask later.

A brief knock sounded. Edelgard turned to face the door, which opened just wide enough for a slender hand holding a dress to sneak through the gap. “Try this one on,” Marianne said kindly from the other side. “Hilda thinks it should fit since the two of you are of a similar stature, but even if you don’t like the color, just let us know. We’ll find something else.”

Edelgard took the dress into her hands with appropriate care before closing the door with her hip. Then, letting the hem fall to the ground, she held the garment up against herself and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

The first thing she noticed was the fact that it was a mellow violet color that matched her eyes. Had Hilda chosen this dress for that very reason? Regardless, she found that despite her natural inclination to wear a harsh scarlet that warned people to take her seriously, she found that she liked the violet far more than expected.

And as she let the neckline fall to the ground, thus allowing her to step into the dress, she found that even the loose cut of the garment as it hung unfastened from her body cushioned her sharpness in a way she could not have expected. There were none of the flouncy petticoats that she often used to pad out her small stature, but the soft fabric naturally flowed down from her hips and ended in a tea-length cut that she found herself surprisingly comfortable in.

Hilda had a discerning eye indeed. She’d taken Edelgard into consideration, it seemed, and chosen something that accommodated her preferences for modesty while flattering what assets she did happen to have.

Unfortunately, as she settled the neckline more securely on her shoulders and fastened the top button at the back of her neck, Edelgard’s heart plummeted. While the afternoon dress was made of a light crepe, the gauzy sleeves of the dress came to a billowy end at Edelgard’s elbows. Thus, the light lines left by ancient scars that criss-crossed her hands and forearms were on full display. Subconsciously, Edelgard rubbed her forearms in such a way that she was almost hugging herself.

She felt bare. Exposed.

Even though it was just her, the dress, and the single mirror in the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being stared at and ogled by dozens of pairs of eyes.

She couldn’t go out like this. She couldn’t wear this dress and allow her kind hostesses to witness her shame and insecurity. But perhaps there was a way to work around it.

Cracking the door open, Edelgard squinted out into Hilda’s room. Both women sat on the queen-sized bed that took up the majority of Hilda’s room aside from the wardrobe. While Hilda seemed to be lying face-down on the bed, completely submerged in the plush blankets and pillows that covered its entirety, Marianne perched on the edge of the bed, rubbing Hilda’s back.

Clearing her throat, Edelgard spoke in a quiet, subdued tone. “Miss von Edmund?” she said. “Um… I have a slight issue.”

“Oh, Edelgard!” Marianne perked up at the sound of her name, and despite Hilda’s immediate grumble of disapproval, stopped rubbing her companion’s back in favor of turning to face Edelgard with a kind expression. “What can I help you with?”

Edelgard hesitated, ruminating on the best way to prepare her request. “Would you…” She hummed and pressed her lips together tightly. Relying for people and asking for help was far from pleasant at best. It was even worse, however, to have to expose herself to these relative strangers. “Would you ask Hilda if she has any gloves?” she finally managed to get out. “I’m afraid… oh, how to put this? I’m extremely uncomfortable having this much skin showing, and I—”

“Say no more.” With a gentle creak of the mattress below her, Marianne stood up from the bed and walked over to the still-open wardrobe. Edelgard listened as a drawer opened, and a few moments later, Marianne came to the bathroom door with a delicate, lacy pair of elbow-length gloves. “Do you think these will work?” she asked, extending the gloves while ignoring Hilda’s distraught groaning from the bed.

Taking the lacy adornments from Marianne’s outstretched hands, Edelgard brought them up close to her face for inspection. Not for the first time did she wish she’d brought her reading glasses to the Goneril estate, as the implements would have made it a little easier to see the delicate weave of the lace. As it was, however, she rubbed the lace between her fingers appraisingly. It seemed like it would be alright. The weave was small enough that she felt it would adequately cover up her silvery scars, and the white lace was pale enough that it would somewhat meld into the color of her skin.

“I think so,” she finally said. “Thank you, Miss von Edmund.”

Edelgard let the door fall shut between them, and setting the borrowed gloves down upon the vanity, reached behind her to begin buttoning up the back of her dress. She managed to do up a few of the tiny buttons by herself, but to her dismay, she couldn’t do many more.

She was going to have to ask for assistance once more.

Grimacing, Edelgard opened the door once more and peeked out. “Ah, Miss von Edmund?” she asked through grit teeth. To her relief, Marianne seemed to have lingered around the door just in case she needed more help. She wouldn’t have to call out across the room again, and thus disturb Hilda again. “Would you come help me button up?”

“Of course,” Marianne said, turning to face her. Edelgard shuffled further back into the bathroom, and Marianne followed her into the room. 

“Thank you.” Yet to turn around, Edelgard dipped her head gratefully. “I’m sorry I’ve asked you for so much.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve  _ had _ to ask for so much. We should have pulled out some gloves for you in the first place.” Marianne closed the door behind her and smiled apologetically. “I thought you just wore them for work, since you didn’t wear any last night after your bath. I didn’t realize it was a personal preference.”

“The sleeves were long enough that I didn’t feel like I needed them,” Edelgard explained. Then, she hesitated. How much did she want to explain? She normally kept the origins of her scars to herself, but Marianne was kind enough, and seemed to be understanding enough, that her very presence inspired honesty. “I was in a fire when I was a young child. It…well, my clothes caught.”

She ended her explanation there in the hopes that Marianne would be able to pick up on the unspoken conclusion. The woman would witness the knotted scars and whorls of the skin on her back soon enough. To facilitate that understanding, though, Edelgard turned around and let her hostess see the open back of the dress she’d agreed to help button up.

She heard a quiet gasp from behind. Edelgard pressed her lips together and looked up at the ceiling above her. Blinking away her fear and the tears that accompanied the rising surge of emotion, it was all she could do to hold back a broken, choked-up laugh of mirth. She’d held herself back from any form of bare intimacy for so long; it was ridiculous that her first real moment of skin-to-skin in years would be with another woman who was just being so helpful as to button up what she could not reach by herself.

“Does it hurt?” Marianne asked. Edelgard shook her head.

“No, it’s been more than ten years.”

“Oh, Edelgard. That must have been awful.” The tiny hairs along the back of Edelgard’s neck prickled as Marianne crouched down to inspect her back further. Her breath was surprisingly cool as it rolled across the thickened skin; Edelgard shuddered at the unexpected contact.

“Can—would you go ahead and button up the back?” Edelgard interrupted whatever was going through Marianne’s mind. “It’s… somewhat chilly in here.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Straightening up, Marianne took the lowermost button and slipped it through the adjacent hole. Edelgard’s back stiffened; she instinctively clutched the forgotten gloves close to her chest. Marianne traveled up her back, fastening buttons as she went. As she reached the space between Edelgard’s shoulder blades however, her fingers brushed against Edelgard’s sensitive skin. Edelgard recoiled from the contact, soft as it was, and Marianne pulled back.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. “I didn’t mean—I should have been more careful.” She sounded like she was about to cry. “I was trying to not touch your scars. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s…” Edelgard searched her feelings. How  _ did _ she feel about it? Protective of herself as she was, she wasn’t angry that Marianne had accidentally touched the knotted scars across her back. If anything, she searched and found herself relieved that Marianne hadn’t been horrified by her disfigurement. Finally, she settled on, “It’s alright.” The smile that she then offered Marianne over her shoulder wavered. “It—it just took me by surprise.”

Marianne wrapped up the process of buttoning up Edelgard’s dress with a brush against her back. Her touch was so gentle that Edelgard barely felt the crepe fabric against her skin. “Are you still planning to wear the gloves?” she then asked, stepping around to face Edelgard. Her brows furrowed as she noticed the way Edelgard held her arms close. “Oh.”

Edelgard hummed nervously. “Oh,” she repeated.

Then to her surprise, Marianne held her hand out, letting it hover over Edelgard’s forearm. “May I?” she asked. Edelgard initially pulled away towards her outstretched hand, but then she looked up and met Marianne’s eyes.

How she had been in her presence for so long without noticing that the woman’s brown eyes were brimming with compassion, she didn’t know. There was nothing for her to be scared of by opening up to Marianne. Taking a deep breath that filled her lungs to bursting, Edelgard closed her eyes. And, letting her breath go, she unpeeled one arm away from her torso and held it out for Marianne to inspect.

Marianne took the proffered arm within her soft hands, and turning it over slowly, looked at the mottled, scarred skin on the underside of Edelgard’s forearm. “A fire, you said?” Her doe-brown eyes flickered up to meet Edelgard’s for a brief moment before she looked back down to her arm with slightly pursed lips, and Edelgard’s heart fluttered. “It must have been a horrible experience.”

Edelgard nodded, the motion little more than a soft jerk of her chin. She could feel her jaw tighten, her teeth clench. Even so, Marianne’s light, delicate touch gently tracing against the lines of her scars brought her an unexpected amount of consolation. Muscles in her shoulders and back suddenly relaxed; Edelgard blinked with surprise. She hadn’t realized she had tensed up to such a degree until that tension was suddenly gone.

Perhaps… letting herself open up wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“I think about it almost every night,” Edelgard whispered, her heart seizing as the words dropped from her lips. “Their screams… the smell… oh, the  _ smell. _ ” She squeezed her eyes shut, lest she open them and see that the scent of burning flesh and hair that filled her nose and mouth was coming from Marianne herself. A shudder ran over her body. “I was the only one who made it out alive. Arson. The people who did it put a sleeping drug in our meal, so nobody woke up.”

Edelgard opened her eyes to see that the lines between Marianne’s brows had deepened. Her lips were curved down, and she was silent. Edelgard sighed. She should have known better than to be honest about the source of her scars.

Marianne finally spoke after what seemed to be an eternity. “If that’s the case,” she wondered, her voice barely audible, “then how did you survive?”

Edelgard chuckled, a thin, mirthless sound. “It was pure chance,” she said bitterly. “I ate less than everyone else. Cheese gratin always made my stomach turn, and I wasn’t very hungry that evening. But my siblings ate it up like it was the best thing in the world, so—” Her voice broke, and no matter how hard she pressed her lips together, she couldn’t stop them from trembling. “They only knew who was who by the placement of their beds.”

“Oh, Edelgard…” Marianne looked back down and, taking Edelgard’s blotchy hand in her own, turned it over so that her palm faced the ground. Edelgard said nothing, but merely stood there in stunned silence. “I cannot imagine how you must feel, being the only one to survive,” Marianne continued, her voice thick with some sort of emotion, “but Edelgard—let me express how grateful I am that you did.” Then, without any other warning, she brought Edelgard’s hand up and brushed her lips against the scar on the back of her hand in the barest suggestion of a kiss.

Edelgard fought back tears. The only other ones she knew to hold such a kind opinion were her business partners—and while she knew—she  _ knew _ —that she was still investigating the two women, she could not turn away such a gracious expression of friendship.

Even so, she cleared her throat. “That’s—that’s why my life has followed the course it has,” she said stiffly.

“What do you mean?” Marianne asked as she eased one of the lace gloves out of Edelgard’s hands. Without waiting for Edelgard’s answer, she picked up the appropriate hand and began easing the glove over her fingers.

“They never found out who did it,” Edelgard explained, not moving her gaze away from the artful way in which Marianne put the gloves on for her, carefully, respectfully—almost  _ ceremoniously _ , even. She treated the silvery scars not like they were anything ugly or deforming, but like they were something special, a mark of her determination to survive. Like they were special because  _ she  _ was special. “So, um,” she continued in a quiet mumble, “that’s why I chose this line of work. If I could help even one person find out why their loved one has been taken from them, then I think that’s enough.” 

Marianne chuckled, and the sound hit Edelgard’s ears like a dissonant chord. She sounded a little uncomfortable; Edelgard couldn’t find anything wrong with that. The turn their conversation had taken was certainly not one meant for the faint of heart. Yet despite however she may have been feeling, Marianne continued with the gentle task of putting a glove upon her other hand.

“I think that’s wonderful of you,” Marianne said after silence stagnated the air between them. Edelgard looked at her with brows raised, the implications of the other woman’s words not fully settling in.

“What do you mean?” she asked when it wasn’t apparent that Marianne intended to finish her thought.

Marianne hummed under her breath, her eyes half-closed as she focused on pulling the hem of the glove up to where it naturally rested in the curve of Edelgard’s elbow. Then, straightening up to meet Edelgard’s eyes, she smiled serenely. “Not everyone can face their trauma every day like that, like you do as a detective.” 

Edelgard tried to cut in with, “It’s not that hard—” but Marianne wasn’t having any of it.

“Even so. The world is better for you in it, Detective,” she said, reaching up to cup Edelgard’s cheek in the curve of her palm. Edelgard blushed as she continued, “I think that’s something everyone wants to be able to say at the end of the day.” Patting Edelgard’s cheek, she smiled and turned to open the bathroom door. “Now. How about we show Hilda what her work has wrought?”

Edelgard nodded, her cheeks still feeling flushed as she self-consciously adjusted the hem of her gloves. And as Marianne guided her out of the bathroom, Hilda’s head popped up from the pile of pillows and blankets in which she’d been submerged.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” she squealed, all of her prior lethargy dissipating as she caught sight of Edelgard and her new outfit. Bouncing out of the bed, she descended upon Edelgard like a bloodthirsty shark. She circled around Edelgard with a critical eye, who stood with her arms straight by her sides.

“Edelgard, you’re so  _ cute _ !” she finally said as she clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “I’d hoped that the lavender would bring out your eyes, but look at it!  _ Look at it _ !” She gestured for Marianne to look. Marianne did so dutifully. “Isn’t she  _ beautiful?  _ She’s  _ stunning. _ Like, absolutely  _ gorgeous. _ ”

Edelgard fought against the urge to bury her face in her hands out of pure embarrassment. She desperately looked to Marianne for some sort of support, but Marianne just smiled and gave her a half-hearted shrug.  _ “Sorry,”  _ she mouthed.

With no help to be found, Edelgard resigned herself to Hilda’s excited poking and prodding. As uncomfortable as it had begun, however, she found herself slowly beginning to relax under Marianne’s smile and Hilda’s easy affection.

She’d never had friends like this before. And as Marianne and Hilda flitted about her, adjusting the way the lavender fabric fell from her frame and overwhelming her with compliments, Edelgard can only think that perhaps friendship with other women was worth pursuing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Edelgard doesn't remember the dream, does she?  
> W h o o p s  
> :3c
> 
> I can't believe I was gonna try and post one chapter every one-two weeks. I've given up on that. Onward ho! ❤︎


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard is coerced into reading poetry, and it dawns upon Marianne and Hilda that maybe... she really is just that oblivious.

When it was clear that the rain was going to refuse to let up enough for Edelgard to return home, and she had pored over her little notebook of evidence so many times that she felt as though her eyes would boil out of her skull if she looked at it one more time, she knew that she needed to find something else to do.

Something quiet, unobtrusive, and out of her hosts’ way.

When her explorations of the Goneril mansion revealed a room in which every wall was floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, Edelgard knew that she’d found exactly what she wanted.

Pulling the hems of her gloves up past the crook of her elbows, silently reassuring herself that it would be alright to go into this room without being invited, Edelgard walked in with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. But when lightning didn’t rain down from above, she rolled her shoulders back and forced herself to relax.

The first books that she found were historical, none of which piqued her interest. Nor did she particularly feel like reading anything fictional. It wasn’t until she came to the poetry section that she cocked her head to look at the authors and titles of the books provided.

“Ooh, what are you reading?”

Edelgard whipped around at the unexpected voice over her shoulder, but relaxed when she saw it was only Hilda. She frowned. When had it become _‘only Hilda’_?

“I was merely perusing your collection of poetry, Miss Goneril,” she said reflexively, immediately moving to replace the book on the shelf. Hilda’s eyes, bright and inquisitive, followed her action.

“But you don’t need to worry about me,” she added while trying to ignore the young woman’s gaze. “The entire purpose of my going to the library was to get out of your and Miss von Edmund’s ways for the day. That’s what I promised the two of you upon my arrival, after all, and I intend to make good on my word.”

“Oh, don’t be stupid.” Hilda reached out from behind Edelgard and, with those soft yet calloused hands that had so completely enraptured Edelgard just a few short hours before, selected a particularly slender tome from among all the books on the shelf. A chill ran down Edelgard’s spine as Hilda’s chest brushed up against her back; she hadn’t realized that the other woman had gotten so _close_ to her.

“…start here.”

Edelgard blinked, startled. Hilda hadn’t finished talking, apparently, and thanks to being in her head, she hadn’t heard any of what Hilda had said. “What did you say?” she asked, her cheeks red from embarrassment. She was being a horrible guest.

“I said, this is my favorite poet.” Hilda grinned, clutching the book to her chest. “So if you’re looking for something to read, I think you should _definitely_ start here!”

She held the book out to Edelgard, who accepted it with a confused expression and a downcast gaze.

 _The Translated Works of Sappho,_ the gold-embossed title read. Edelgard ran her fingertips across the slight divots created by the title in the leather cover, and found herself smiling faintly.

Then, as she cradled the volume in her hands like a precious treasure, she brought that smile up to Hilda, who seemed delighted by the expression. “Thank you, Miss Goneril,” she said. “I am certain I shall enjoy the experience.”

Hilda hummed cheerfully and reached out to tap a short-manicured nail against the book.

“Why don’t you start with, um, _Sappho 31_?” she suggested. “That one’s my favorite. Like, I know I said Sappho was my favorite, but _31_ is my _favorite-_ favorite.” She grinned at Edelgard as she lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Mari read it to me for the first time a few years ago, and I guess that’s when I really fell in love.”

“Sappho must be a very good poet, then.” Edelgard regarded the book in her hands with a new appreciation. If Hilda, who so far had not indicated any preference for studying, could laud this Sappho so emphatically, then she was sure to enjoy his poetry.

“The best.” Hilda nodded confidently. “I’m gonna leave you to it, okay? If you need me, I’m gonna—I dunno, I’m gonna go find Mari and pester her for a bit instead. I know I can be a little overwhelming in large doses, especially if you’re not used to me.”

Edelgard nodded absentmindedly as she turned _Sappho_ over in her hands to inspect it. When she looked up to locate a chair in which she could curl up and read for a little bit, Hilda was gone. She shrugged, not overly bothered by the woman’s sudden disappearance, and meandered over towards one of the impossibly plush chairs that were arranged in small clusters across the room.

The smell of well-worn paper wafted up as Edelgard eased the book open in her lap. Instead of automatically jumping to _Sappho 31_ , however, as she assumed Hilda had meant her to do, she began at the beginning of the book.

Immediately, it was clear that whether translated or not, Sappho had a true talent for expressing emotion. There was a longing that, while Edelgard had yet to experience herself, was so well articulated that Edelgard’s chest seized at several of the depictions of Sappho’s lover within.

 _If not, I would remind you_ _  
_ _...of our wonderful times._

She found herself so enthralled, in fact, that when the subtle clearing of someone’s throat broke through her concentration, she did not immediately look up.

 _For by my side you put on_ _  
_ _many wreaths of roses_ _  
_ _and garlands of flowers_ _  
_ _around your soft neck._

“Edelgard?”

Edelgard finally looked up, frustrated in the face of having her reading interrupted, only to see Marianne standing behind a chair across from her own.

“Edelgard, would you mind it if I sat with you?” the slender woman continued, holding her own choice in book close to her waist. “It’s been a while since I had the chance to read with someone in the same room.”

“What about Miss Goneril?” Edelgard murmured, glancing between the book in her lap and Marianne’s pleasant expression. “She was looking for you a few minutes ago.”

“Ah. Well, you see, Hilda has a tendency to be… _distracting_.” Lifting a slender hand to her mouth, Marianne covered a dainty giggle. “She’s like a cat, in that regard. She wants attention when she wants it, and she doesn’t really care about whatever you’re doing at the time.”

Edelgard glanced up to smile wryly at Marianne. “I’ve noticed something along those lines,” she replied. “And—please pardon my observation—but she seems to be particularly fond of hanging off of your shoulders whenever the opportunity allows.”

“Yes, that’s certainly the case. She’s been like this since we were younger, but it used to always be _me_ hiding behind _her._ ” Marianne slid into a seat opposing Edelgard. “She’s always protected me, and I think that’s just her way of reminding me that she has my back.”

“What would you need protecting from?” Edelgard asked with a tilt of her head. The two of them had a lovely life together, from what her brief intrusion had indicated, and it didn’t seem to Edelgard that either woman had much to worry about.

Marianne’s mouth tightened.

“Familial problems. A youth filled with infirmity. Unwanted suitors.”

Edelgard’s heart plummeted. Oh, that was right. Lord Acheron. Without Hilda there to direct attention towards herself, numerous men seeking a docile, meek wife would have undoubtedly begun to vie for Marianne’s hand. And as kind-hearted and sweet as Marianne was, one of them would have certainly come up with a sob-story pitiful enough that Marianne would have swayed his way.

But… that made little sense to Edelgard. Hilda seemed to have been more than content to take a step back and allow Marianne to handle most of the interactions between the three of them. If she was so possessive of Marianne, then why had she left the two of them alone in the library together? Did she not see Edelgard, who had invited herself to their home for the sole purpose of seeing Hilda clapped in chains for the crime of murder, as a threat?

Marianne cleared her throat, drawing Edelgard’s attention back to her. Realizing that she had been frowning heavily, she cleared her expression in favor of a faint smile. “What have you been reading?” she asked, gesturing towards the volume in Edelgard’s lap. “You seemed positively enthralled before I interrupted you.”

“Oh!” Edelgard held up the book so that Marianne could see the embossed cover. “ _Sappho._ Miss Goneril suggested it to me.”

“I love Sappho,” Marianne gasped, sitting up straighter in her seat. Her book fell to her side, momentarily forgotten.

“Yes, Hilda mentioned something like that. She also said something about—ah, _30_? _31_?” Edelgard grimaced. “I’m not quite there yet.”

Marianne’s smile became softer, fonder, and Edelgard’s heart throbbed. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to hear you read it aloud.” Her cheeks turning a gentle, pale pink, her already quiet voice became a muted whisper. “ _Sappho 31_ is my favorite as well.”

Like her name had been called, Hilda burst into the library.

“We’re getting a reading?” she shouted towards Edelgard and Marianne. “I leave Edelgard alone for like, _ten minutes,_ and you’re in here getting a _private reading_?” With a loud, dramatic groan, she swept forward to wrap her arms around Marianne’s neck from behind. And as Hilda set her chin down on top of Marianne’s head, Marianne gave Edelgard a knowing smile. Against her better judgement, perhaps, Edelgard quietly giggled back.

Unaware of the silent exchange between the other two, Hilda griped, “I wanna hear her read too! Edelgard, please read it to me!” She drew out the latter half of Edelgard’s name in a petulant, childlike whine.

“To _us,_ ” Marianne teasingly corrected, patting one of Hilda’s hands.

“Yeah!” Hilda immediately course corrected. “Read to us!”

“I don’t have much experience with public speaking,” Edelgard cautioned the two excited women, surprising herself by how easily she acquiesced to their request, “but I—I guess I could do that for you.” She shrank into the lavender fabric of her borrowed gown as she flipped through the book in her lap.

It was oddly comforting to wear something so unfamiliar. It let her feel like she could do anything. That while she was the detective Edelgard, she was also an Edelgard that was entirely new. An Edelgard who found joy in things other than work, who wore oversized sweaters and let other women do her hair, who let herself wear pretty dresses and do—do _poetry readings._

“It’s _31,_ ” Hilda reminded her as she stepped out from behind Marianne’s chair and claimed a new seat on Marianne’s lap. Edelgard tried to focus on turning the pages despite the way Hilda undid Marianne’s low-seated hairstyle and began to twist it back together into braids of her own design. She could still feel the ghosts of Hilda’s nails scraping against her scalp from the evening before, if she wasn’t careful, so she pushed the thought from her mind and tried to ignore the two entirely.

When she finally came across the page containing _Sappho 31,_ Edelgard coughed demurely into her fist. Marianne and Hilda turned from each other and towards her, and Edelgard blushed at the sudden attention, even though she had known to expect it.

She began to read, her voice trembling faintly.

 _“He seems like the gods’ equal, that man, who_ _  
_ _ever he is, who takes his seat so close_ _  
_ _across from you, and listens raptly to_ _  
_ _your lilting voice_

 _“and lovely laughter, which, as it wafts by,_ _  
_ _sets the heart in my ribcage fluttering;_

As Edelgard hit her stride, the words beginning to fall from her lips with ease, she found herself straightening up in her seat.

Her voice deepened, becoming richer and fuller, and while she didn’t fully understand the emotions that were bubbling up within her, they left her feeling warm and content. That warmth and contentment spilled over into her reading.

 _“as soon as I glance at you a moment, I_ _  
_ _can’t say a thing,_

 _“and my tongue stiffens into silence, thin_ _  
_ _flames underneath my skin prickle and spark,_ _  
_ _a rush of blood booms in my ears, and then_ _  
_ _my eyes go dark,_

 _“and sweat pours coldly over me, and all_ _  
_ _my body shakes, suddenly sallower_ _  
_ _than summer grass, and death, I fear and feel,_ _  
_ _is very near._ ”

With the end of the poem came a heaviness that filled Edelgard to the brim. There was a sadness to the poem, and a great longing that the poet seemed to think would never resolve, but as silence hung in the air between the three women, broken only by the sound of rain against the window, she was left with the feeling that the love expressed was still somehow worth it. 

Did all love feel this way? So full of heartache and pain, yet warm and bright as the sun? Was it all so overwhelming?

Edelgard glanced between Hilda and Marianne, only to see that their eyes were shining with some feeling shared between the two of them and them alone. Hilda’s hands were still tangled in Marianne’s hair, but instead of braiding the long blue strands as she had been before, she held them up to her lips in some unspoken gesture. Marianne, in turn, gazed at Hilda like she was the center of her whole world.

All of this, of course, left Edelgard standing on the outskirts, entirely alone.

With a sigh, she let the book in her hands fall shut. Perhaps it was for the best. No, it was _certainly_ for the best. Their friendship had been fostered over the course of decades; it was impossible to conceive that _she_ of all people could imagine herself having a place among them.

And why would she even wish for such a thing? She was a hunter; they were her prey.

Then, out of nowhere, they turned that gaze onto her. It was only for the briefest moment, but in that instant in which Edelgard met their eyes, it felt as though the curtains in the library had flown open and filled the entire room with sunlight.

It was overwhelming. It was intimacy, pure and certain, and for that short-lived moment, Edelgard felt like maybe she could be allowed to bask in the light of their surety. And maybe, for a moment, she could pretend to be part of their happy little world.

She could pretend to be loved.

Loved?

From where had _loved_ come?

Whatever the word was that she longed for, that one perfect word that somehow described the way she felt wholly _herself_ around Hilda and Marianne, it was too much for her to handle.

“I should be going now,” she mumbled as she stood up, half to herself and half to the two women sitting across from her. To her surprise, however, they didn’t merely continue on with their show of friendship, but rather, Hilda unceremoniously jumped up from Marianne’s lap and reached for Edelgard.

“You read that _so_ well!” she cheered as she wrapped Edelgard up in a hug. Edelgard stiffened at the unexpected embrace, but her rigidity didn’t seem to bother Hilda in the slightest. “Are you like, a performer? You _can’t_ tell me you haven’t done that before, because I _won’t_ believe you!”

The unwarranted praise brought a flush to Edelgard’s face, and she tried to look away from Hilda despite the fact that she was pressed right up against her chest. “I’ve—I have a friend who performs,” she mumbled, “I’ve seen her do it a few times. Not—not _this_ poem, but she performs, uh, other things.”

Hilda raised a brow, her eyes lighting up in curiosity. Edelgard rushed to continue her explanation before Hilda had the chance to say anything particularly lewd or indecent. “On stage! She’s an actress, with the opera! It’s nothing untoward, I assure you!”

Hilda giggled into her hand, then waved off Edelgard’s concerned explanation. “I didn’t think anything _like_ that, I promise!” she said.

“No, it’s _exactly_ what you thought!” Marianne chimed in from where she sat, laughter ringing in her voice.

“I would be inclined to agree with Miss von Edmund,” Edelgard chuckled. “But all the same, I really don’t understand what came over me. I am no performer, after all, and while I cannot say I’ve ever had a lover of my own, something about the way Sappho spoke about his lover…”

She hesitated, trying to put together the words she so desperately wanted to express herself with, but they refused to come to mind. Sighing, she shrugged and gave up with, “It resonated with me, I suppose.”

Despite her inadequate words, Hilda’s jaw dropped open. “What did you say?” she asked with an incredulous chuckle.

“That I enjoyed his poem?”

“Oh my god. Edelgard, Sappho is a _woman._ ”

Edelgard blinked rapidly, trying to wrap her mind around the revelation. “Oh. Yes. Of course,” she sputtered anyway, plastering a smile over her confusion. “That makes perfect sense.”

It made absolutely _zero_ sense.

Hilda and Marianne glanced at each other and, once again, silent communication passed between them.

Edelgard fidgeted.

“We-ell,” Hilda said, clapping her hands together like that would somehow dispel the awkwardness that had settled over them like a fog, “I’m gonna go, like… make food. I don’t know what kind of food, but if I’m gonna be as cute as I am today, I might as well be a cute little housewife. Plus, that way Mari doesn’t have to step foot in the kitchen and set everything on fire. Again.”

“That was one time!” Marianne protested as she rose from her seat, her book abandoned in the face of Hilda’s teasing. “Hilda, I have made dinner safely more often than not. Why do you insist on _always_ bringing this up!”

“Because I get to see your cute little face all _angry_ at me,” Hilda giggled as she swept out the library door, her voice becoming increasingly harder to hear as she traveled further down the hallway.

“Hilda? Ugh.” Marianne sighed when it was clear that Hilda wasn’t about to reply. Then, glancing back towards Edelgard, she asked, “Are you going to be alright?” Edelgard nodded.

“Oh. Oh, yes. No problem at all.” Edelgard held up _Sappho,_ though she wasn’t sure whether she would return to that particular book or not. There were several other books that she’d been considering before Hilda had swooped in and made the choice for her.

Marianne raised her brows for a brief moment before ultimately settling into the gentle smile that Edelgard was becoming so accustomed to. “Alright then, Detective,” she said. “We’ll call for you when it’s time to eat.”

With a quick hum of acknowledgement, Edelgard returned _The Translated Works of Sappho_ to its home on the bookshelf. Then, she selected a new book, reclaimed her comfortable chair, and tried to shove aside her confusion regarding Sappho’s apparent object of affection.

* * *

_Marianne traced lightly against the bare skin of Edelgard’s belly, her fingertips dipping gently into the curve of her belly button before traveling to swirl through the pale, nearly-white hairs that trailed further down. Edelgard shuddered at the unfamiliar touch of another person brushing against her burn scars, but she didn’t tell Marianne to stop._

_“You’re so beautiful,” the slender woman sighed as her fingers trailed even further down. “I can’t believe no one has taken you for themselves yet.”_

_Edelgard opened her mouth to tell Marianne that no one had ever felt right, that she’d never experienced such a physical pull to another person before, but Marianne’s lips suddenly covered her own and her breath was stolen away._

_When Marianne pulled back, Edelgard was left panting for breath. And as the other woman moved to straddle Edelgard’s hips, she reached for the thick scars that laced their way up and down Edelgard’s arms, the disfigurement that marred her bare chest, and the muscles that lay beneath. Marianne gasped, taken aback by her discovery, and Edelgard blushed at the attention that was now being lavished upon her body._

_“You’ve been through so much,” Marianne murmured. Between words, she peppered tiny kisses all along the path from Edelgard’s right shoulder to her clavicle, then deciding to continue down her sternum, gently kissed her way down between Edelgard’s breasts. “And yet, you are here with me today. Is it any wonder I believe in a higher power?”_

_And as Marianne’s fingers slipped down to play between Edelgard’s thighs, making the detective’s back arch in ecstasy, Edelgard had to think that maybe she now had reason to believe in a higher power as well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the original wlw herself, Sappho! This was the greatest chapter to write, you don't even know. 
> 
> Oh! We're halfway through! But don't worry, things are going to start falling together pretty rapidly from here on out. Thanks for sticking around~ 🎔


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a lovely morning with Hilda and Marianne, Edelgard finds herself reluctant to leave. Leave she does, but when a mistake brings her right back to the mansion, she happens upon something that changes everything she thought she knew.

The bright autumn sun shone down onto the gardens that sprawled across the land behind the mansion. Edelgard and Hilda relaxed on the patio, protected from the midmorning light by an awning above them, while Marianne flitted about her flower patches to make sure they had, for the most part, survived the deluge of rain that had kept the three women inside for the past day.

“So… your plan is to go home today, right?” Hilda asked, picking up her glass of white wine from the iron-wrought table that separated her from Edelgard. Taking a sip, she lifted her brows inquisitively at the detective.

“Yes,” Edelgard said in reply, though it came out rather absentmindedly. Her focus was mostly on Marianne, whose loose, flowing dress billowed out around her as she knelt among her flowers.

As if she was aware of the eyes upon her, though, Marianne looked up and briefly smiled at her. Her heart fluttering, Edelgard smiled back. Marianne’s smile widened for a moment before she returned her attention to the unplucked blooms in her hands.

“Mm.” Hilda sighed and clucked her tongue. “Pity. It’s been nice having you around, Edelgard.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Edelgard replied brusquely, taking a sip from her own glass of wine. She wasn’t very fond of wine, as tea and coffee ran through her veins like blood, but when Hilda had poured a glass for herself and offered to pour one for Edelgard, she’d surprised herself by accepting. The alcohol was sweet on her tongue, but the unfamiliar crispness of the drink was a lovely pairing to the beauty of both the morning and the scene before her. “I’ve done nothing since I got here but impose upon your kindness, accuse you of murdering your husband, and threaten the life you have here with Mar—with Miss von Edmund.”

Hilda tossed her head back and her laughter, bright and boisterous, rang out across the patio. “You can call her by her name, you know!” she giggled. “I don’t think Mari would mind. Try it!” Setting her glass down, she got up on her knees and leaned far, far into Edelgard’s personal space. Edelgard herself leaned back against the backrest of her chair in a futile attempt to escape having Hilda’s face in her own.

“Repeat after me,” Hilda said. “Watch my lips. Ma-ri-anne.”

Begrudgingly, Edelgard acquiesced. “Mari—”

She froze as an image of Hilda leaning forward just a little bit more, of her lips touching Edelgard’s, of Hilda whispering  _ her  _ name instead of Marianne’s flashed through Edelgard’s mind.

Immediately, she threw up an arm to separate her from Hilda’s beautiful lips. “Actually, Miss Goneril, I would prefer to continue addressing you and your friend as professionally as possible.” After all, their roles in the recent events had yet to be fully determined, and she would rather die than risk having her personal feelings influence the outcome of the case.

It had nothing to do with the fact that allowing herself to consider the two women as anything other than suspects risked the possibility of considering them as… well, something other than suspects. And she couldn’t risk that.

Yet despite all of her reservations about allowing herself to feel anything for Hilda and Marianne, she couldn’t deny that she’d had a truly pleasant time with them over the past few days. The thought of leaving them later that day was one that made her heart ache. But it had to be done.

Hilda seemed to have something similar on her mind.

“I’m sorry, Detective,” she said, falling back into her seat with a dour expression. Reaching back for her wine, she cradled the glass in her hands like a precious jewel. “I’m well aware that I have been a little much. Like, I haven’t been  _ mean,  _ but I could definitely have been a lot nicer.”

“What do you mean?” Edelgard asked. “The two of you have been nothing but kind to me. You let me stay for a few nights, you fed and clothed me, and you were kinder than anyone I’ve met before.  _ Especially  _ when considering the circumstances of our initial meeting.”

Hilda considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “I mean, you’re definitely right. I  _ have  _ been pretty nice to you.” She shook her head, though, and her normal smile turned down at the edges. “But just because I haven’t said anything about it to your face, doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking cruel things. You should have heard some of the things I said to Mari after I sobered up that first night you were here. I accused you of  _ so  _ many things, like pretending to be sickly so you could get close and snoop on us—”

“I assure you, that’s not at all—” Edelgard tried to cut in, but Hilda ran her over without hesitation.

“—Yeah, yeah, I know that  _ now,  _ but I was worried about it  _ then _ , okay? Anyway!” Hilda clapped her hands together resolutely. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re a lot better of a person than I gave you credit for. And uh, please don’t be mad, but Mari kinda told me about your whole reason for becoming a detective, okay?”

Edelgard felt her face beginning to heat up. She hadn’t explicitly told Marianne that her past was a secret, though, so while she’d spoken to the other woman in confidence, she couldn’t really be mad with her.

Hilda, however, continued on. “Turns out, you’re  _ not  _ just a stuck-up weirdo. Turns out, you’re a strong, smart lady who’s seen something wrong with the world and actually has the determination to  _ do  _ something about it. You’re trying to do something  _ right,  _ no matter how hard it is or how many sacrifices you have to make to get there.”

Edelgard remained silent, not quite sure how to respond to Hilda’s declaration. In her eyes, she wasn’t doing anything half as noble as what Hilda had described. She was just one woman, trying her best to help at least one other person in the world. To hear her life’s work explained in such a dignified way… it made her blush, and her heart swelled with gratitude.

Meanwhile, Hilda set her glass down and drew her knees up to her chest. Setting her chin down on her knees, she sighed as she watched Marianne walk about. “I mean… I’m kinda jealous of you for that. I’ve had just about everything I’ve ever wanted since I was born, and what do I do with it? Nothing! Nothing at all!”

“I think there’s something to be said about people who try to be happy,” Edelgard replied quietly, thoughtfully. Hilda turned to look at her with a grateful smile. “And just from watching you and Miss von Edmund, I find myself somewhat jealous of you too. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live with such a close friend.”

Her eyes widening, Hilda sputtered. She reached for her glass of wine and downed the entirety of what remained. Then, gasping as she lowered the now-empty glass, she turned to Edelgard with a wide, strained smile.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re  _ super  _ close friends,” she affirmed. Unsure as to why she’d gotten such a strong reaction, Edelgard simply smiled back uneasily.

“Yes, that’s why I said so,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it, but my business partners are as close to friends as I have. Which is, of course, not to say that they  _ aren’t _ my friends, but—”

“Stop, stop!” Hilda, who was doubled over with raucous, gut-wrenching laughter, held up a hand to silence her. Edelgard pressed her own lips together tightly, lest Hilda’s infectious laughter get to her as well. “I get it! You have friends, Edelgard! I  _ get  _ it! You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Marianne, who had for so long been distracted by the welfare of her autumnal garden, wandered over to investigate just what was making Hilda laugh so hard. “Is everything okay?” she asked, the beauty of her smile easing the tightness of Edelgard’s heart. She wanted to leap up and embrace her, to wrap her arms around her tall, slight frame and thank her for not making her feel any ‘lesser than’ in comparison to Hilda’s easygoing nature.

“I think so,” Edelgard said, even as she side-eyed Hilda’s laughing form. “I’m not quite sure what I said that was so funny, but Miss Goneril seems to be having an excellent time at my expense.”

“Well, let’s leave her to her rudeness,” Marianne said, reaching over to grasp Edelgard’s hands within her own and pulling her up from her seat, “and you and I can walk around a bit. It’s a beautiful day, Edelgard. Would you share it with me?”

“Hold up, hold up!” Hilda held up a hand as her laughter finally began to subside. “Just—just let me get some more wine and I’ll come with you!”

“Maybe we don’t  _ want  _ you with us,” Marianne teased with a light squeeze to Edelgard’s hands. Averting her gaze, Edelgard blushed. “Maybe I want to just snatch Edelgard up and run away with her.”

Hilda frowned. Edelgard looked between the two of them; while Hilda seemed to be quite upset at the notion, Marianne didn’t seem to be very worried at all. Was this them teasing each other?

“Fine, fine,” Hilda finally said with an overly dramatic toss of her hair. “See if I care, Mari.” She paused and tapped her lower lip. Thoughtfully. “I might be inclined to forgive you for your infidelity if you bring me some flowers, though.”

Marianne chuckled and, dropping Edelgard’s hands, dropped into a faint curtsey. “Very well, milady,” she said stiffly, like she was trying very hard to not laugh. Wrinkling her nose, Hilda stuck her tongue out at Marianne, who just laughed more as she guided Edelgard away from the patio and towards the garden.

“I really need to make my way home,” Edelgard said quietly as soon as they came to a halt near one of Marianne’s flower patches. “I didn’t intend to stay very long into the morning, and—”

“Nonsense,” Marianne said kindly, kneeling down to pick up a basket and a pair of shears that she had apparently left there. “You should at least stay for lunch, don’t you think?” she added as she inspected the flowers in front of her. “I think Hilda could make a wonderful meal if we can convince her to get out of her seat.”

Edelgard pursed her lips in thought. She’d already been at the Goneril estate for two nights now; what harm could a few hours more be? “I’d like that,” she agreed after a moment. “But something tells me we’d need to keep her wine glass filled.”

Marianne paused in the midst of clipping a few flowers. For a second, Edelgard worried that she’d insulted her by joking about Hilda’s reluctance to do anything. But then she heard Marianne laugh, pure and clear, and her worry was quickly assuaged.

But, to Edelgard’s surprise, there was no immediate return to the easygoing, lighthearted conversation that had so far characterized most of her time with Marianne. Instead, Marianne remained silent for long enough that Edelgard shifted her weight back and forth between her feet several times.

When Marianne finally spoke again, it was softer, far more serious than Edelgard had heard her for quite some time. It reminded her of the way Marianne had spoken during their initial interview.

“It must have been uncomfortable, staying in the house of the woman you suspect of murder,” she said quietly. “I understand you didn’t have a choice, as you risked falling ill otherwise, but it can’t have been an enjoyable time.”

Edelgard opened her mouth to say something, but closed it firmly when she realized there was nothing for her  _ to  _ say. Because on one hand, Marianne was right. Staying in the house of her lead suspect had been an absolutely horrible idea, no matter how worried she’d been about taking ill. Yet on the other hand… Edelgard was having a difficult time rectifying the fact that while the whole experience had been a confusing whirlwind, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Maybe it was the ease with which Marianne and Hilda had accepted her into their home, when she’d shown up at their doorstep, soaked-through and shivering. Maybe it was that they’d treated her like a friend instead of the enemy that she represented.

Maybe…

Maybe that was the reason why she found herself so reluctant to leave.

“It was not what I expected,” Edelgard finally said with furrowed brows, the intentionally diplomatic twist of her feelings tearing her apart. “I didn’t expect to be allowed to stay one night, much less two. Nor did I expect that the two of you would be so… welcoming to me.”

“Oh, Detective.” Marianne looked at her kindly. “Of course we let you stay. Like recognizes like, after all, and our lives are hard enough as it is.”

Edelgard frowned, tilting her head slightly as she tried to wrap her mind around what Marianne had said.  _ ‘Like recognizes like.’ _ Was it because all three of them were single women, struggling to make their way in the patriarchal world into which they’d been ungraciously deposited? She could think of no other explanation.

“Well,” she said, “I don’t think I can thank you enough for your kindness.”

“You can thank me,” Marianne teased, holding her basket out for Edelgard to take, “by taking this back to the house for me. I’ll follow in a little bit; I’d like to check on my vegetables.”

Obediently, Edelgard took the basket. Then, frowning again, she added in a low, quiet voice, “You know, Miss von Edmund, that as grateful as I am, I can’t let this—”

“You can’t let this affect your investigation of Lord Acheron’s death, am I right?”

Caught in the midst of her disheartening explanation, Edelgard could do nothing but nod. “Exactly. I can’t let my personal feelings impede the proceedings.”

If she were to be wholly honest with herself, the proper thing to do would be to remove herself entirely from the investigation. Yet to consider that… it made her heart ache. She didn’t want to think about it.

Marianne interrupted her morose train of thought by looping one arm around Edelgard’s waist and tugging her in close for a one-armed embrace. Edelgard squeaked at the sudden contact, as her senses were overwhelmed by the gentle, slightly floral scent of the perfume that Marianne wore, but quickly relaxed into her touch.

“I’m sure that you’ll do the right thing,” Marianne murmured down into Edelgard’s ear, the close contact setting Edelgard’s cheeks ablaze. “You are a great detective, Edelgard, and I wholeheartedly believe that nothing will get in the way of your pursuit of justice.”

Edelgard mumbled something unintelligible in reply, something that even she didn’t know the meaning of, and Marianne let her go.

Hurrying back towards the back patio and Hilda’s faux pout, Edelgard didn’t look back to see if Marianne’s expression matched the sadness that had filled her voice.

* * *

Lunch was a casual affair, as had been all of her meals with Marianne and Hilda, and as soon as Edelgard gathered up her belongings and changed back into the formalwear she had been wearing when first coming back to the Goneril estate, she left.

The seat of her buckboard swayed from side to side as her horse drew her further and further away from the two women with whom she’d spent a few amazing days. The sway, uncomfortable as it was, mirrored the painful way in which Edelgard’s heart clenched.

She knew exactly why she was so conflicted. She’d gotten close, become  _ attached  _ to the suspect and her friend, and that made it nearly impossible to look at the case objectively. No, no. She knew that it was  _ entirely  _ impossible. It would do her no good to pretend otherwise.

Of course, it didn’t help that while she’d been able to see the ladies in their natural state before leaving, she had yet to figure out exactly how all of the pieces of Lord Acheron’s death came together. It would probably help to have Hubert and Ferdinand look at the evidence together—after she’d stepped away, obviously. She shouldn’t be involved.

Though while she wouldn’t be present, they would have everything she’d compiled in her notebook to aid them. From the women’s answers to her questions, to minute observations that she had made during her stay at the estate—everything was in that notebook.

Edelgard patted the side of her coat, where she was used to keeping her notebook of evidence tucked away in an inner pocket, just to make sure it was there now that it was on her mind. To her horror, however, there was no tell-tale resistance against the fabric that would indicate the notebook’s presence.

Hurriedly, she drew her horse to a halt. Her blood roared in her ears as she got down to the ground. She hadn’t brought many things with her, but she needed to have the swaying of the buckboard come to a total stop if she was going to be able to think. She patted herself down once more—there was no notebook. She searched every inch of the buckboard, as though there might be a chance that it had caught on a piece of wood, but there was nothing to be found.

It finally dawned upon her that she must have left the notebook back in her room at the Goneril estate.

For the second time in three days, Edelgard turned her horse around.

* * *

When she finally got back to the mansion, Edelgard didn’t bother with knocking and simply tried the door. It swung open, to her surprise, and as she stepped in over the threshold, Edelgard made a mental note to stop by Hilda’s room and remind her to lock the door after she left.

Moving past the thought, Edelgard walked the now-familiar hallway down to her borrowed room. But as she set her hand on the doorknob, an unexpected sound caught her attention. Hair at the back of her neck prickled up as she heard moans coming from further down the hall.

Was someone getting hurt?

Had someone, having come to the same conclusion regarding Hilda’s guilt as Edelgard initially had, broken into the mansion with the purpose of enacting revenge?

Panic surged through Edelgard like adrenaline, and she abandoned her room in favor of following the sound to its source. The moans and groans, while they didn’t seem to really sound like any of the pained sounds Edelgard was familiar with, grew louder and louder the closer she got to Hilda’s room.

Her heart beat faster and faster, fear threatened to overwhelm her, and Edelgard picked up her pace.

“Miss Goneril?” she called out, her voice cracking. “Miss von Edmund? Are you hurt?”

No answer came her way, just more uncomfortable sounds.

When she came to the door to Hilda’s room, she was left with no doubt that the source of the sound was right inside.

“Miss Goneril? Miss von Edmund?” Increasingly grateful that she had earlier learned the trick to opening the door, Edelgard jiggled the handle while pushing on the door as she’d been shown and burst through into the room.

To her distress, Marianne lay on the bed in plain view, her mouth just barely open and a heated flush high on her cheeks. The pale, puffy sleeves of the dress the woman had been so excited to show her earlier that morning had been pulled down to hang uselessly at her sides, revealing small breasts that rose up and down in what Edelgard realized in horror to be a very entrancing, almost hypnotic way.

She had to look away. Yet to her alarm, she  _ couldn’t  _ look away.

She couldn’t drag her eyes away from the soft, rhythmic bounce of Marianne’s breasts, couldn’t cover her ears to block out her soft gasps and moans as what Edelgard soon realized to be Hilda moved out from beneath Marianne’s skirt. Pink hair loose and frizzy from exertion, Hilda pulled herself up towards Marianne’s face and leaned in to kiss her.

Edelgard pressed her legs together as a confusing warmth began to pool in her abdomen.

Hilda’s lips moved soundlessly; Edelgard leaned in as though she could somehow hear her words by doing so. Marianne laughed and reached up to run her hand through Hilda’s impossibly long hair—which, Edelgard realized, she was seeing down for the first time.

It wasn’t until Marianne’s dreamy brown eyes flicked her way and the soft ‘o’ of her lips pressed together in a thin line of horror that she even remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be there, that as far as Marianne and Hilda knew, she’d left their home for good a few hours ago.

“Oh my god,” she said, pushing herself up off of Marianne to get a better look at their voyeur. Edelgard’s face turned a bright red as she realized that she’d been caught, and she turned tail as quickly as she could.

She didn’t hear any footsteps following after her as she ran down the twists and turns of the mansion’s hallways, thankfully. And while she knew in the back of her mind that it was asinine of her to take refuge in the very home of the people she’d so egregiously trespassed upon, she was relieved to finally return to the room that she’d been sleeping in for the past two nights.

It didn’t seem like Hilda or Marianne had taken it upon themselves to clean up the room yet. That added familiarity of seeing the room as just as she’d left it made her feel a little more secure in her choice of asylum.

Closing the door behind her, Edelgard pressed her back against the door, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

What had she just seen?

That was a foolish question. She knew exactly what she’d just seen. She may have been far more focused on the pursuit of justice than in fornicating with her peers, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know what  _ sex  _ was! The few men that she had been intimate with had often pressed the idea of sex upon her, but she’d simply never found any pleasure in the act. Thus, her few, short relationships had ended quickly, as she had more often than not refused to put out what they requested most.

She just couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Hilda and Marianne were involved in such an… _ intimate _ relationship! She knew that they were close, close enough that Marianne had been the first one to come to Hilda’s side upon the discovery of Lord Acheron’s corpse. But to think that they were so close as to—as to  _ pleasure  _ each other?

She was no longer grateful for her lesson in door-opening.

Gathering up what remained of her mental fortitude, Edelgard peeled herself away from the safety of her door and lunged for the critical notebook that she could see just sitting there, innocent and pure, unaware of the things Edelgard had witnessed as a result of its simple existence. She clutched it close, and without bothering to shove it deep into her pockets, she bolted out of the house. The door slammed shut behind her, but she didn’t let herself stop to see whether the sound had alerted Marianne and Hilda to her movement. She merely jumped onto the buckboard, snapped the horse’s reins, and rode on home to the city as quickly as possible. 

By the time she finally unlocked the door to her apartment, she felt entirely empty. She felt bottomed out, like every scrap of understanding she’d ever had about the world had been scraped out from inside her and she’d been left with nothing but an empty casing. 

Her first instinct was to call Hubert, to try and utilize his infallible logic to wrap her mind around what she’d witnessed, but it was so late that were it not for the lamplight lining the streets, she wouldn’t be able to see her own hand if she waved it before her face. She couldn’t imagine any universe in which he would appreciate being woken up at such an extreme hour. 

So Edelgard did the only thing she felt she could: she wrote down the entirety of what she’d seen in the notebook she had gone back to retrieve in the first place, put on her own nightclothes for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and went to bed. Hopefully, she would wake in the morning and realize that it had all been a misunderstanding.

Yet even in her sleep, there was no respite to be found.

* * *

_ “You’re so beautiful,” Marianne murmured in Edelgard’s ear. The delicate feeling of her long, thin, pianist’s fingers brushing against the sensitive skin along Edelgard’s hairline sent a chill down Edelgard’s spine. “We’ve wanted you for so long, Edelgard. It was impossible to get Hilda to shut up about you.” _

_ “But why would I want to?” Hilda asked from Edelgard’s other side, her head propped up against her arm as she traced idle spirals on Edelgard’s bare breast. “She’s a talker, and you know what they say. Birds of a feather flock together and all that shit.” _

_ The gentle rumble of Marianne’s laughter spread into Edelgard’s body at the point where they connected, spread downwards to the point where her legs met. Edelgard pressed her legs together, as though doing so would somehow manage to subdue her rising desire; Hilda raised a brow full of confidence. _

_ “Mari,” she crooned with a lazily wicked smile, the circles she’d been drawing across Edelgard’s chest reaching further and further down with each loop, “I think she wants this too.” _

_ “Do you want this?” Marianne asked, leaning in so closely to Edelgard’s face that if she wanted, she could just barely move and they would be kissing. When she didn’t do so, however, Edelgard pushed herself from the tower of pillows with her elbows and crashed their lips together. _

_ Breathless, Edelgard tugged away and revelled in the momentarily dazed expression that had surfaced on Marianne’s face. “I do,” she panted. “Marianne, Hilda, I do.”  _

_ “You heard her,” Hilda said, the smirk clear in her voice even as Edelgard, open-mouthed and starry-eyed, stared at Marianne’s resplendent smile. “Which means I get to do this.”  _

_ Every last nerve in Edelgard’s body seemed to be set aflame once Hilda’s fingers danced down to toy with her clit. At her side, Marianne cooed gently and continued stroking her face, reminding her that it was okay to relax, Hilda was a master at this, and breaking up Edelgard’s gasps with sweet kisses. _

_ Hilda was a master indeed.  _

_ The rhythmic motion with which her fingers circled against Edelgard’s clit sparked the growth of a dull, heavy pressure in her lower body that only grew with each passing moment. The occasional graze of short-clipped nails against her folds made her gasp, and each time, Marianne swooped in to leave her completely without breath. And then, when Edelgard found herself unable to continue suppressing the movement of her hips and ground against Hilda’s hand, moaning, that pressure built and built until finally— _

Edelgard’s eyes snapped open. She shot up in bed, her breathing quick and depthless despite the fact that she’d undoubtedly been asleep for several hours. At least—that’s what she hoped. A brief glance to the clock on her bedside table confirmed her suspicion: it was a little after five in the morning, and the sun had only just begun to peek over the horizon.

Early as it was, however, she had a sinking feeling in her gut that it would be impossible to return to sleep, even for a few hours. The uncomfortable dampness in her underwear had made that certain.

She threw off the layers of blankets that covered her and, not even hesitating to put on slippers as a barrier to the cold wooden floor that was certain to greet her, scrambled out of bed and out of her room. Nor did she bother to sneak around so as to let her neighbors continue sleeping without interruption; she let the floorboards creak and groan away on her quest to reach the rotary phone as quickly as humanly possible.

The subtle, fast-paced clicking of the dial as she put in the number to Hubert’s personal phone number made her heart beat even faster; she clutched the handset close to her ear and tapped her foot anxiously against the floor. When it began, the ringing of Hubert’s phone felt impossibly distant.

“Hello?” Hubert asked moments later, and Edelgard’s heart leapt in relief. He sounded very tired, perhaps even grumpier than normal, but she felt like she could cry with joy at the sound of his voice. “Who is this?”

“Hubert, it’s me.”

“Ah, Edelgard. It’s exceedingly early for you to be calling. Has something happened?”

“Hubert, I’m at home. I just got back from the Goneril estate last night. And I—I think I saw something that changes everything.”

Her business partner was silent, and Edelgard had the feeling that he was just waiting for her to continue with her story. She could imagine his expression: deadpan, almost expressionless, and a brow just slightly raised in either interest or concern.

Well, it was either that, or frustration at having been woken up so early. Oh, how she hoped it was the former.

“I think,” she began, cupping her hand around the mouthpiece as she glanced around to make sure that no one else could hear despite living alone, “I think Miss Goneril and Miss von Edmund are more than just friends.”

Still, Hubert said nothing. Edelgard bounced up and down on her toes, worry growing in her chest. Was she wrong? Had she misinterpreted the situation? No, no—what she’d walked in upon was something that was impossible to misinterpret.

“What brings you to this conclusion?” Hubert finally asked.

“I—I don’t want to say that I walked in on them,” Edelgard said, the words spilling out of her mouth so quickly that she couldn’t stop herself, “but I’m afraid that that was exactly what happened. I left yesterday, but I realized that I’d left my notebook there, so I came back, but then I heard something, so I went to check on them and—” She trailed off as the memory of Marianne and Hilda’s flushed expressions resurfaced in her mind. 

“I’m not surprised to hear that they are lovers,” Hubert said after a moment. “I certainly had my suspicions.”

Edelgard blinked in surprise, pulling the handset away from her ear and staring at it with confusion. He’d had suspicions? Why hadn’t he shared those suspicions with her earlier?

“You knew? You knew that they are—”

“Lesbians, yes. Women who feel romantic and sexual attraction to other women are far more common than one would be led to believe.”

Edelgard felt like her legs had been kicked out from under her. She couldn’t breathe, her chest felt so heavy. She’d never felt attraction to a man, that was a fact. But to think that loving another woman—to be informed that that was an  _ option _ ?

Her voice was thin and raspy as she clutched the headset close once more.

“Hubert,” she whispered.

“Yes, Edelgard?” he replied, dutifully as ever.

“Hubert, is there a chance that I could be—” Her voice dropped even lower, and she spoke so quietly that even she could barely hear herself. “Could  _ I  _ be a lesbian?”

She heard a soft chuckle on the other side of the conversation.

“There certainly is the chance that you are indeed, also a lesbian,” Hubert said, surprisingly patient for someone who had been so unceremoniously woken up before dawn.

Before Edelgard had the chance to say anything else, a burst of laughter came through the speaker, so loud that she had to pull the phone away from her ear lest her eardrum burst.

“I knew it!” someone said in a voice that was most  _ certainly  _ not Hubert’s. “No one but a lesbian could possibly resist the alluring charms of Ferdinand von Aegir!”

Edelgard’s jaw dropped as she heard her other business partner’s voice, drawling and sleepy as it was. The phone headset fell to the ground, and the resulting chatter that streamed through the speaker seemed louder than anything else she’d heard that morning.

Nothing made sense anymore. The ladies of the Goneril house were lovers, she might be a lesbian, and now Hubert was having Ferdinand over at his home? It was barely even dawn; why would Ferdinand be there so early in the day?

Scrambling to pick up the headset as she tried to wrap her mind around the several pieces of information that had been unceremoniously dumped on her, Edelgard brought it back up to her ear.

“Why is Ferdinand at your house?” Edelgard hissed. “The two of you can’t stand each other! You’re always bickering at the office, aren’t you?”

“Precisely,” Hubert replied calmly. “Few people come to the conclusion that we are…  _ seeing  _ each other after witnessing such altercations between us.” He chuckled, and embarrassment quickly warmed Edelgard’s cheeks. “Your own lack of knowledge regarding our relationship is proof enough of that.”

“No, that’s because she’s completely oblivious!” she heard Ferdinand say in the background, his voice accompanied by the sound of creaking bedsprings. “I never met the ladies of the house, but even  _ I  _ know they’re gay. Just from what you’ve told me!”

“Yes,” Hubert said, vaguely muffled by what Edelgard assumed to be his hand over the receiver, “but you must acknowledge that Edelgard’s never been exposed to this particular social niche. She isn’t aware of the tics and cues that you or I would immediately pick up on. Be gracious, Ferdinand, or must I remind you of how ignorant  _ you  _ once were?”

“Come back to bed, and I’ll show you how gracious I, Ferdinand von Aegir, can be!”

Edelgard’s eyes widened as she realized the implications of Ferdinand’s words. Hurriedly, she muttered, “Well, that is what I’ve discovered. I will update you should I come across any additional information, Hubert.”

Hubert grunted in acknowledgement. “Let us know when you have had the chance to register your thoughts,” he said. “We can discuss what to do regarding the case when we are all together at the office.”

“Agreed.”

Edelgard set the handset back on the phone base with a resolute  _ click  _ before rolling her head on her shoulders and letting the vertebrae in her neck crack. Things had become so confusing, yet at the same time, she felt like her vision had never been more clear.

Unfortunately, her newfound clarity seemed to come at the cost of her sanity and peace of mind, for she found that the longer she dwelled upon the night’s revelations, the more seriously the front part of her head began to throb.

There was so much for her to think about now—the implications of Marianne and Hilda’s intimacy upon the case of Lord Acheron’s death, the very fact that Marianne and Hilda were intimate in the first place, her own confusing feelings regarding what she now had to consider her own possible homosexuality—that Edelgard knew for a fact that it’d be impossible for her to go back to sleep. 

Edelgard returned to her room as quietly as she could, so as to avoid disturbing her neighbors, got dressed, gathered her things for work—most notably the very notebook that had drawn her back to the estate in the first place—and hurried down to the front door.

The rising sun, the gentle murmuring of the other citizens unfortunate enough to be awake at such an early hour, and her own thoughts were Edelgard’s only companions as she left her apartment. She didn’t go straight to the office, however. There were a few errands she wanted to run first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having realized the truth about her own sexuality, Edelgard finds that the puzzle surrounding Lord Acheron's death is far less complicated than she'd originally anticipated. She confronts the ladies about her conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief reference to sexual assault in the latter half of the chapter. Take care of yourself. ♡

The bell that hung above the door to their office rang; Edelgard groaned in agony.

Her head felt as though it was being played upon by a set of errant youths with drumsticks. Her forehead throbbed so fiercely that she couldn’t open her eyes without the pain intensifying. Not even coffee seemed to help lessen her pain, and the several empty coffee cups that surrounded her testified to that.

“Oh. Oh, no.” Ferdinand’s voice cut through the haze of her headache. Edelgard opened her eyes and groaned. von Aegir was the absolute last person that she wanted to be in the same room as, to have in her presence, and the fact that he was there was just a lot more than she was willing to put up with. “Edelgard, what have you _done_ to yourself?”

“I can’t sleep,” Edelgard said simply. 

It would be impossibly unseemly to tell her business partners that every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was a vision of Hilda and Marianne’s naked bodies pressed together, moving together. If she watched for long enough, they turned to her, smiled, beckoned for her to join them. So far, she had managed to open her eyes before she accepted their offer. She feared what might happen if she fell asleep, though, so… she didn’t.

“Apparently so,” Ferdinand remarked as Hubert stepped forward. Picking up one of the many books that sat in piles on either side of her, he flipped it over to look at the title.

“ _Conqueror’s Desire_ ,” he read aloud. Edelgard withered in shame when he opened the book’s deliberately nondescript cover and selected a passage. “Catherine reached out with one gauntleted hand and put it behind Manuela’s back,” he continued, “pulling her close, and kissing her passionately, hotly, full of vigor and heat and life. The knight tasted and smelled of clean sweat and the metallic tang of battle, and that drove Manuela _wild_. Though she claimed to be a pacifist, there was something thrilling about Catherine’s utter ferocity…” 

With a sigh of what was clearly disappointment, he pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. Then, he turned to address Edelgard directly.

“Where did these come from?” he asked. “I have seen your bookshelves, and there have never been any titles of this… notably questionable caliber there before.”

“Dorothea, mostly,” Edelgard admitted. “I went to her place right after I called you… um, however long ago that was; I can’t actually remember. But she lent me all of these—” she gestured out around her at the several short stacks sitting around her, “—and I’ve been reading ever since.”

“How are she and Petra, by the way?” Ferdinand cut in off-handedly. “They’re lovely girls. Excellent dinner guests.”

“Oh, they seem to be doing fine. Petra met me at the door, actually, and she—” Edelgard paused as realization dawned upon her. Burying her face in her hands, she mumbled, “They’re lesbians too, aren’t they?”

“Dorothea’s bisexual, actually,” Hubert said as he put the book back down with its mates. “But to answer your question, yes. The two of them are indeed a couple.”

Edelgard groaned. So many words, so many terms, so many _opportunities_ had presented themselves to her over the course of the last several hours, and she was beginning to feel impossibly worn down. It all threatened to overwhelm her. “This is all so much,” she said into her hands. “It’s like there’s a whole new world, just beneath the surface of the one I’m used to, and I’ve been thrown into it without warning.”

Lifting her head, she looked between the two men, her business partners whom she now knew to be partners in their personal life as well. “Was it this tumultuous for you, when you realized you were—” she hesitated. Which was the proper term for their relationship? Women would be lesbians, men were—was it _gay_? But weren’t they all considered gay? Then where did bisexual people fit into it all? “When you realized you were attracted to men,” she finished lamely. “Was it this difficult?”

“I’ve known all my life,” Hubert replied stiffly as the faintest smile crinkled the skin around his eyes. He was trying to be comforting, Edelgard knew, and just that he was trying was enough. Ferdinand, meanwhile, danced around her piles of questionably appropriate research materials and came to sit down on the sofa beside her.

“It was a little like this for me too,” he assured her as he set a hand upon Edelgard’s closest knee. Edelgard leaned against his shoulder, grateful for the friendly contact he so easily offered. “I had spent my whole life being told that I would need to marry a woman and carry on my bloodline for the sake of the family name. Imagine what weight was lifted from my shoulders when I learned that this was not the case! There was another path for my life to take, a path in which I would make my own happiness and meet the love of my life, and it was mine to take if only I had the courage and strength to do so.”

“The love of your life…” Edelgard echoed. Ferdinand smiled and nodded.

“Yes. You are one of my dearest friends, Edelgard” he said, “but I would do anything for Hubert if it meant I could ease even just one of his many worries. Of course,” he added, throwing his voice across the room pointedly, “it would make my job a hell of a lot easier if he would stop _adding_ to those worries at the drop of a hat.”

“You know very well why I cannot,” Hubert said fondly, if gruffly. Glancing between them, Edelgard got the feeling that this was but a continuation of an argument that they had had many times before. It made a little more sense now, why Hubert had always acquiesced to Ferdinand’s most inane of requests. He’d grumped and sulked about it, yes, but more often than not, he’d followed through.

She wondered what that must feel like, to be part of a relationship where one’s love and adoration was not a question, but a certainty. To be married in all but in the eye of the law, and to live for another person as much as one lived for themselves. To do whatever was necessary to protect one’s partner, even at the cost of one’s own life or freedom—

The truth of the case which she had been fighting for so long to unravel struck her like a thunderbolt.

The sleeping draughts, prescribed for Marianne’s insomnia. One of which had been chloral hydrate. 

The high trichloroethanol levels discovered during Lord Acheron’s autopsy. 

Marianne’s baleful brown eyes in the garden the morning Edelgard had left. Her resignation regarding the eventual outcome of the case.

It all made sense, now. 

“Gentlemen,” Edelgard announced, ignoring the rippling cracks of her joints as she stood for the first time in hours, “I think I’ve uncovered the truth of what happened to Lord Acheron!”

She made as if to walk towards the door and travel to confront the ladies of the Goneril estate, but exhaustion finally weighed her down like a millstone around her neck. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell back onto the couch and into Ferdinand’s waiting arms.

“That may be the case,” Ferdinand said, not unkindly, “but you won’t do anyone any good if you die from lack of sleep. Hubert, the curtains, please.” The room suddenly darkened. Edelgard didn’t see him do it, but she could only assume that Hubert had done as requested and let the curtains free from their ties. Now that there was no sunlight streaming in and preventing her sleep, Edelgard found that her eyelids were impossibly heavy.

“I figured it out,” she mumbled as gentle hands laid her down upon the seat of the sofa and covered her with a blanket they kept tucked away just for this very purpose. “I know how it happened.”

“You’ve done very well,” she heard Hubert say. “Now, Edelgard, it’s time for you to sleep.”

Edelgard’s protests died on her lips as sleep claimed her for its own.

* * *

With closed eyes, Edelgard faced the afternoon sun. Warm, but not harsh, she hoped that the sunlight would ease the pain that had wrapped itself around her heart like barbed wire.

This wasn’t the ending that she’d wanted. This wasn’t the solution she had worked so hard to achieve. But it was the truth, and in her fight for justice, she had to face the truth.

Turning around to face the front door to the Goneril mansion one final time, Edelgard sighed. Lifting her gloved hand, she knocked gently on the door.

There was no immediate response. Edelgard’s heart fluttered; perhaps there was a meaning behind the lack of response.

Perhaps… if no one came to the door, then it was alright. She could leave, and there would be nothing wrong with it. She wouldn’t have to set the relationship that had begun to build between herself and the two women aflame; she could merely return home and set the whole of this unsettling experience firmly behind her.

It didn’t matter that her heart felt full at the very sight of Hilda, that she had to smile back every time that Marianne smiled shyly at her, that their easygoing natures and now-obvious love for each other—and perhaps for _her_ , too—made her want nothing more than to be wrapped up in their embrace ‘til the end of her days.

Then, the door opened, and Edelgard’s hope—however brief and far-fetched it had been—crashed to the ground and shattered into glass shards beyond repair.

“Oh, wow!” Hilda’s eyes lit up like the stars as she made eye contact with Edelgard, and she grinned widely. As opposed to the first time Hilda had smiled at her, Edelgard realized that her smile was beautiful and genuine. “Hey, Mari! Guess who came back to see us again!”

“Miss Goneril, I—” Edelgard tried to relay to Hilda that she hadn’t come with any joyous purpose, but Hilda reached out, grabbed her, and dragged Edelgard into the main foyer. She didn’t have the chance to say much else before Hilda wrapped her up in a bone-crunching embrace.

“Ooh, I thought you weren’t ever gonna come back!” Hilda squealed, bouncing up and down. Then, she held Edelgard back at arm’s length and looked her over. “Look at you, you look _amazing_.”

Despite knowing the less-than-pleasant reasons for her visit, Edelgard found herself blushing as Hilda’s critical eye roved her and her crimson dress over. She wrapped her arms around her chest as she noticed that Hilda’s eyes lingered there; while she might have let it pass upon any earlier visit, she knew better now.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, glancing aside to stare at the floor. “I’m afraid that I’m not here to visit, though—”

“Edelgard!”

Marianne swept into the room and, just like Hilda, grew excited to see that Edelgard had returned. “Edelgard! Welcome back,” she said happily, reaching out with outstretched arms as if she also wanted to hug Edelgard, but Edelgard held out her hand to halt her.

“You won’t be glad to see me once you understand what I’m here to do,” she said, her heart clenching.

Marianne tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?” she asked in a low voice, like she already knew what Edelgard intended to accomplish. “Edelga— _Detective,_ what are you here for?”

Edelgard plunged her hands into the pockets of her skirt; her fingertips brushed up against the cool metal of the handcuffs concealed within. She didn’t _want_ to use them, but they were there in case they were necessary. Screwing her eyes shut, clearing her mind, Edelgard took a deep breath and opened her eyes to face Marianne steadily.

“Marianne von Edmund,” she said, her voice wavering on the edge of breaking, “I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Lord Acheron. If you will come with me willingly, I will refrain from using handcuffs on you. Either way, I intend to bring you to the police station and turn you in immediately.”

Marianne’s eyes, those warm, brown eyes that Edelgard had been so enamored with since the very beginning, filled with glistening tears. Even so, she tilted her head to the side in acceptance and smiled faintly. “You figured it out, then?” she asked. “You know what happened, Detective?”

“I believe so.” Edelgard nodded. “It was the chloral hydrate, wasn’t it? The medication you had been prescribed for your insomnia.”

“I never had insomnia,” Marianne whispered. “I—I lied to the doctor.” Hilda’s eyes widened, not with surprise, but with fear.

“You don’t have to tell her anything!” Hilda reached for Marianne, grabbing her shoulders and physically placing herself in between Marianne and Edelgard. “All she knows is that you lied to a doctor!” She shook the other woman gently. “That’s it! Just _stop_ talking, Mari!”

Closing her eyes, Marianne shook her head. “I’m tired, Hilda. She was here for so long—and I _know_ we tried to distract her, but it didn’t work.”

Hilda looked over her shoulder and glared at Edelgard. “She didn’t do _anything,_ ” she said. “It was all me. There’s no reason to take Marianne in. Just take me, and leave her alone!”

Edelgard spoke quietly. “I can’t do that, Miss Goneril. I have reason to believe that it was Miss von Edmund who is responsible for Lord Acheron’s—”

“Don’t say his goddamn name!” Hilda whipped around fully and marched right up into Edelgard’s face. The ferocity of her anger threatened to overwhelm Edelgard, but she steeled herself and squared her shoulders. She took on Hilda’s fury with a calm acceptance.

“Do you _know_ what he fucking _did_ to me, _De-tect-ive?_ ” She spat out each syllable of Edelgard’s title derisively. “Do you _understand_ just how _miserable_ I was in his house? In his bed? That fucking man thought he was _entitled_ to me, to my body, and the only way to keep his goddamn hands off of me was—”

“The chloral hydrate.” Pale-faced and trembling, Marianne took hold of Hilda’s hand and clutched it tightly to her chest. She stepped out from behind Hilda so that she could face Edelgard honestly. “It made him fall asleep; he couldn’t touch Hilda when he was unconscious.” She squeezed Hilda’s hand. “I—I learned how to do it, I started putting it in his drinks whenever I came over—”

“I did it too!” Hilda snapped. “I did it almost every night after Marianne showed me how to, whenever that asshole started looking at me in that horrible, awful, hungry way. Like he was stripping me down with his eyes.”

“It only took a few drops,” Marianne cut back in, “and he’d become drowsy and fall asleep just a little while later, so Hilda didn’t—she didn’t have to put up with any of the things he tried to get her to do. B-but, the more we did it, the more he got _used_ to it, and we had to start using more and more and _more_ —”

Edelgard’s heart plummeted. She knew where this was going. She knew the dangers of heavy-duty medication. They had been giving the lord unregulated amounts of sedative, and as a result, they had unwittingly caused him to die of an overdose. From what Edelgard understood of chloral hydrate, Lord Acheron would have gone to sleep after dinner and… simply not have woken up. Just as the ladies had told her during their initial interview.

“—and that last night, I noticed that it wasn’t taking effect as soon as it had the time before,” Marianne continued tearfully. It was becoming harder and harder for her to tell her story, like she was scared that if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to start again. “So I added more, I didn’t even count how many drops, I just put them in until I _knew_ he would fall asleep so he wouldn’t do anything to Hilda.”

Hilda picked up when Marianne’s voice broke. “And then when I woke up and he was—he was _dead,_ I ran to Marianne because she’s the only person I’ve ever felt safe with, ever. And we didn’t even _talk_ about what we’d do, we just—she held me and we cried. Then we called the police and—you know the rest.”

Her lip quivering, Marianne wrapped her free arm around Hilda’s shoulders and held her close, just as Edelgard knew she’d done for Hilda upon the night of the lord’s death. Then, with a determination and strength of self that Edelgard hadn’t expected to see from the other woman, brown eyes met violet and Marianne’s expression hardened.

“And I would do it again,” Marianne said. “I would do it a million times over again to protect Hilda, Edelgard.

“And it doesn’t matter that you’re going to take me in, that I’ll probably die for my crime of murdering Acheron, because I’ll go to my death knowing that Hilda is safe.” She spoke bitterly. “Few men will want another man’s leftovers, after all, even if she is rich and well-connected.”

Then, stepping forwards, Marianne held her hands out for Edelgard to take. Her heart beating frantically, Edelgard reached for them. But before she could take Marianne’s hands, or even apologize for the great pain she was single-handedly delivering unto the women, the sound of a slap rang out across the room.

Edelgard held her hot, stinging cheek as Hilda’s furious eyes once more met hers.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Hilda asked coldly, her hand still raised from slapping Edelgard. “Marianne protected me, _I_ tried to protect me. We’re women! We _know_ that no one else out there will protect us!

“So, _Edelgard,_ if you take her in for being the first person who really cared about me, is that really enacting the justice that we deserve?” Her hand wavered in the air as the rage in Hilda’s eyes transformed into a pure, clear despair. “Could you really, actually do that to the woman I love?”

_Was that really justice?_

Edelgard’s knees threatened to fall out from beneath her, but she locked them beneath her. _Could_ she do that to Hilda and Marianne?

_Was justice achieved by following the law? Or was justice achieved by doing what was right?_

Could she live with herself if she was responsible for ruining the life of—of one of the women that she loved? The lives of _both_ women that she loved?

That… she loved.

She loved them.

Hilda’s affectionate nature, Marianne’s gentle care, she had never felt such love from people. And while she now recognized that the two women had intentionally treated her with such affection to distract her from the case at hand, Edelgard couldn’t shake the feelings that had become so solidly rooted in her heart.

Her head swam. Edelgard felt faint. “I—I don’t—" Her mouth felt dry. The ‘right answer’ to the problem at hand—because there had to be one, there just _had_ to be—felt just barely out of reach.

Had this been their goal? Had they known, even when Edelgard had not, that she would ultimately be susceptible to their feminine wiles? Was there some sort of secret sixth sense shared between lesbians that alerted them to the presence of another?

If so, why was it that Edelgard herself had failed to understand the true nature of Hilda and Marianne’s relationship until she had actually witnessed the two women being physically intimate with each other?

Nothing made any sense, least of all the way her heart ached so keenly.

But she wasn’t given a moment more to think about it, because Hilda looked at her with the most quizzical expression.

“Wait, hold up. Are you feeling okay?” Hilda asked, leaning in and squinting at Edelgard’s face. “You’re looking _super_ pale.”

“I’m not… _sure,_ ” Edelgard said. Her voice came out hoarsely. “I don’t know what to do; I can’t just—”

The room shifted sharply, and Edelgard clutched at her head.

Wide-eyed, Marianne set a hand on Hilda’s shoulder. “Hurry, Hilda, catch her,” she urged. “I think she’s going to faint.” Her voice was fuzzy in Edelgard’s ears. Edelgard felt her weight shift to one side for a brief moment; she barely managed to right herself before toppling over. 

The next time she swayed, she wasn’t so fortunate as to catch herself. But she fell into Hilda’s waiting arms, and as the two women cradled her gently, the dark haze that crept around the edges of her sight grew and grew until it overtook her vision entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Conqueror's Desire_ was written by [Lily!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blooming_Spiderlily/pseuds/Blooming_Spiderlily) I asked for a super-cringy snippet of erotica to feature here, and she delivered. More of it is featured in her marihilda fic, [_And Fastened With a Bow._](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275181/chapters/61277644) (I promise, all of her work is amazing. Even when she tries to be bad.)
> 
> What can I say? Edelgard's had a rough day, guys. But don't let that fool you into thinking it's over ;3c


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After regaining consciousness, Edelgard is offered refreshment of a horizontal nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I didn't google 1800s-1900s euphemisms for sex. Definitely not.

Edelgard awoke to the sensation of fingers combing through her bangs, gently, kindly, like she was something precious to be protected. She opened her eyes only to see nothing before her. It took a moment for her to realize that she had not gone blind, but that a cool, damp washcloth had been placed over her eyes—presumably to assist with her recovery from whatever had caused her to faint in the first place.

The motion through her hair came to a standstill as the individual tending to her realized that she had awoken.

“Edelgard?” Hilda asked. “Edelgard, are you awake?”

“Hush, Hilda,” she heard Marianne say. “Let her rest.”

“But Mari—”

Before Hilda could whine any further about the situation at hand, though, Edelgard spoke up.

“Why are you taking care of me?” she murmured, lifting the damp washcloth up off of her eyes. When her vision adjusted to the dim light, Edelgard recognized the simple layout of the sitting room. She had been laid out on the settee, apparently, and in addition to the washcloth that had been set on her face, a cushion had been placed beneath her head.

The amount of care with which she had been treated astounded her. With a sign, she glanced to the two women at her side. Hilda sat closest to her, in a wooden chair that had certainly been drawn in from the dining room. Marianne sat in another chair beside Hilda, just a little way down.

Neither of them seemed to be very angry with Edelgard, which surprised her. By all rights, they should be absolutely furious, but instead they looked at her with relief shining in their eyes.

“I came here to separate you,” Edelgard continued, “to take Marianne to the police and turn her in. I should be the very last person the two of you want to see, much less care for.”

Despite her prior resolve to remain stoic during any proceedings concerning the two women, Edelgard felt her lips trembling. She pressed them together tightly in the hopes of preventing either Marianne or Hilda from taking notice.

Hilda grinned. “Yeah, well… turns out that we still like you. Even if you still feel like dragging us back to the station, oh, I don’t know.”

“Remember how hard we were trying to—” Marianne blushed, covering her mouth as she looked to the side, “—ah, seduce you?” She glanced to Hilda with a concerned expression, then looked back to Edelgard. The skin around her warm brown eyes crinkled in a smile. “The way Hilda and I look at it, well… at some point, it became real.”

“You’ve discussed it?” Edelgard asked, blinking frantically. “I mean, me?”

“Uh, yeah?” Hilda leaned over the bed, propping herself up with her elbows. “I mean, it’s not like we wouldn’t.”

Edelgard rolled onto her side to look at Hilda. She knew that her face had to be contorted with confusion, and certainly with anxiety. It had to be far from attractive, yet the expression on Hilda’s face was breathtaking. Soft pink eyes, endless pools of emotion and admiration, shone out at Edelgard and set her cheeks ablaze.

“What… have you talked about?” Edelgard asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“What do you think?” Hilda tossed her hair to the side with a laugh that only barely sounded patronizing. “I just said that we talked about you. Stuff like… how stupidly smart you are, while being so damn oblivious to our feminine wiles.”

Marianne piped up helpfully. “Remember how cute it was when she thought Sappho was a man? I thought for sure she’d pick it up when we asked her to read the poem, but…”

“I know, right?” Hilda laughed again, and Edelgard wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“In my defense,” she mumbled, “I was not aware that one woman could love another until just recently.”

“Which is like, amazing,” Hilda assured her. “We had you clocked as one of us right off the bat.”

Edelgard pursed her lips as she considered the implications of what she’d just learned. When she and Hubert had initially dropped in upon the women for their initial interviews, they hadn’t given them any prior warning. Hilda and Marianne would have had no way to prepare adequately for their upcoming interrogation.

All of a sudden, the stark contrast of Hilda and Marianne’s behaviors on that first day and the second, when Edelgard had arrived alone, made sense. They’d understood who she was, even then, and the days between the two interviews had given them time to come up with an appropriate strategy. That was why they’d been so kind to her, why they’d been so welcoming. They’d been trying to distract her from her goal from the very beginning.

They hadn’t anticipated that their efforts would eventually become legitimate.

Though to be fair, Edelgard herself hadn’t understood that their efforts had been efforts at all.

Embarrassed in the face of her prolonged misunderstanding, Edelgard covered her face to cover her flushing cheeks. “I can’t believe this,” she groaned. “I came to confront the two of you, and yet here I am, in—in love with you.”

She heard Marianne inhale sharply. At the same time, Hilda asked, teasingly, “You wanna say that again?”

Edelgard pressed her lips together, so tightly that she almost couldn’t feel them anymore, as she attempted to push aside the warm, bubbly feeling that was rising in her chest. She loved them. It was so simple to understand, yet so complicated to explain.

“I love you. Both of you. I don’t entirely know how to say it to you, but I do.”

Then, quietly, Hilda said, “Move your hands, Edelgard. Let me see your face.”

Slowly, filled with an anticipation that she couldn’t voice, Edelgard peeled her hands away from her face to see that Hilda was leaning in close to her. Their faces were barely inches apart.

“Hey,” Hilda breathed. “Hey, Edelgard, can I kiss you?”

The world around Edelgard went silent, but for the cacophonous beating of her heart, and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, Hilda.” 

With a look in her eye that Edelgard couldn’t place, Hilda grinned at her. And instead of leaning in to kiss her, like Edelgard so desperately wanted her to do, Hilda placed her lips right up against Edelgard’s ear and whispered, “What is it you want me to do, again?”

Edelgard reared back, Hilda’s question having completely caught her off-guard. “What did you say?”

“I want to hear you say it!” Hilda giggled. “What you want me to do!”

That strange bubbliness that had begun to grow within Edelgard surged. “I…”

“Use my name,” Hilda urged, that wide grin practically taunting Edelgard. “I want to hear you say my name. Is that too much, Miss Big, Bad Detective?”

Edelgard pressed her lips together. It wasn’t as though she was going to say no; she’d already said Hilda’s name. But in hearing Hilda especially asking for her name…

Intensely aware of the way her face burned, Edelgard sat up on the couch, her knees pressed together in the space between Marianne’s and Hilda’s, and took Hilda’s hands in her own.

“Hilda,” she said, gently rubbing the sides of Hilda’s hands with her thumbs and completely embarrassing herself in the process with how forward she was being. But Hilda seemed to be interested in it, if the blush spreading across her faintly freckled cheeks was anything to go by, and that gave Edelgard a burst of confidence. “Hilda, will you kiss me?”

Without another word, Hilda took her hand, caught Edelgard’s chin in her grasp, and pressed her lips against Edelgard’s.

Edelgard screwed her eyes shut at the contact, as though doing so would let her appreciate the sensation of Hilda’s pillow-soft, slightly sticky lips against her own. Hilda’s hand moved from her chin to cup Edelgard’s cheek; Edelgard leaned into her touch like it was the only thing she had ever craved in her life.

When she found herself so desperate for air that she had to break away from Hilda, her lips felt numb and swollen, like she had been stung like a bee. But as she blinked at Hilda, heady and immensely proud of herself, she saw Hilda’s equally pleased expression and had to smile back.

“I—oh, my,” Edelgard mumbled as she tried to process the powerful way in which Hilda had expressed her affection.

“’Oh, my’ is right,” Hilda chuckled, taking Edelgard’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. “Have you ever done this before?”

Edelgard stared at the way their fingers folded together, ran her tongue over her upper teeth while she thought over the rolling desires that had begun to burn inside. “Never,” she whispered, squeezing Hilda’s palm against her own. “Not when I truly meant it, at least.”

“So… you mean it with us?” Marianne asked as she leaned her head against Hilda’s shoulder, to which Edelgard only nodded.

“I really, really do. More than I’ve ever meant anything before.” Edelgard couldn’t pull her eyes away from the way in which Hilda inspected her gloved hand, not until Hilda made use of her grasp to pull her in close once more and kiss her again. Edelgard relaxed against her; her eyes fell shut once more in the face of Hilda’s care.

As a result, she didn’t notice Hilda lifting her hand until it was fully entangled in the hair at the back of her head. Edelgard gasped against Hilda’s mouth as Hilda’s deft fingers searched through the chignon that she’d shaped her hair into that morning, so very long ago. She felt the tightness of her hairdo loosen, the lengths of her hair fall down her back, and when she pulled back, Hilda proudly held up the pins which had once held up her hair.

“It’s just as soft as I remember,” Hilda commented, tossing the pins onto the floor. Edelgard reached for the pins as they fell—she had a feeling that the loss of her pins and the subsequent letting down of her hair was merely a sign of things to come—but Marianne caught her hand.

Almost as though she’d read Edelgard’s mind, and understood the portent that she was so certain of, Marianne grinned. It was a particularly Hilda-like expression, Edelgard thought, but seeing Marianne smile so freely, so happily, was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

“Come with us,” Marianne sang, adding Edelgard’s other hand to her possession. With a small, shy smile of her own, Edelgard allowed Marianne to pull her up to her feet.

She followed Marianne into the hallway, and to her surprise, she only went a short distance before she found her back pressed up against a wall.

“You’re wearing too much,” Marianne informed her, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned down to nip at the sensitive skin of Edelgard’s neck. “Can we fix that for you, perhaps?”

Edelgard hesitated. She knew that giving Marianne her consent here, now, would undoubtedly be giving the two women permission to enter the realm of the fantasies that had been shadowing her for days now. Kissing was one thing. But having her clothes removed crossed a line that she was scared to cross.

Marianne and Hilda had, without doubt, captured her heart. She knew that. Yet she couldn’t shake the thought that if she allowed Marianne to disrobe her, she would never be able to return to the life that she’d worked so hard to create for herself. Work-obsessed and aloof as she had been, there had been a security to her position. Would giving in put her at risk further down the line?

Apparently having noticed Edelgard drawing back into the endless mire of her uncertainty, Marianne tilted her head to the side. “We can stop,” she said kindly. “It won’t make us adore you any less.” Edelgard shook her head.

She was allowing her concern to cast a shadow over Marianne’s face. While it may have been a touching sentiment, this was not a time to cause Marianne to worry for her.

“I just needed a moment,” Edelgard said as she met Marianne’s worried, angelic gaze. “This is… all rather new for me. But I assure you, Marianne, I do want this.”

Marianne blushed as Edelgard reached up for the collar of her shirt. Her hands faintly trembled as she undid the first of the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons that trailed down the front of her high-collared dress. She took particular note of the way Marianne’s eyes followed her gloved fingers, though, and smiled.

Once, she’d had cause to believe that she was being used. Manipulated. And while that had certainly been true to a point, Edelgard had no doubt that the glimmer of desire that shone in Marianne’s face was genuine.

Edelgard’s dress sloughed to the floor, pooling around her feet. Then, shuddering at the sudden chill that washed over her, she stepped out of the ring of fabric and right into Marianne’s waiting arms. She buried her face against Marianne’s chest as the other woman ran her hands up and down the now-exposed skin of her back, and breathed her in.

She was warm. She was soft, and smelled of tea and rose and mint.

She smelled of home, and it was only in that moment that Edelgard realized what home could smell like.

“You’re beautiful,” Marianne said, taking one of Edelgard’s hands in her own once more. Edelgard watched with bated breath as Marianne pinched the hem of the glove that covered her hand, her scars, and in one fell swoop, pulled the glove off entirely. Like she was praying to some higher power, Marianne closed her eyes and brought Edelgard’s fingertips up to brush against her lips in some silent prayer of blessing. “Thank you, Edelgard.” 

Edelgard’s other glove joined its mate on the floor mere moments later.

“Let me help,” Edelgard heard Hilda say from behind, and elation ran through her as she found herself sandwiched between the two of them. An undignified squeak escaped her as she felt Hilda lift up the lace straps of her chemise, her brassiere, and slide them off of her shoulders and down her arms to sit around her waist.

Meanwhile, Marianne’s fingers brushed against the petticoats that still hung around her waist, and as Edelgard reached for Marianne’s kiss once more, she heard the distinctive rustle of her undergarments joining her dress upon the floor.

Instinct beckoned Edelgard to cover herself, now that she was fully on display for the women on either side of her, but she wasn’t given the opportunity. With a little whoop of laughter, Hilda scooped Edelgard up from behind, one arm under her knees and the other at her back. She placed a silly, sloppy kiss on Edelgard’s cheek, and with Marianne trailing close behind, carried Edelgard down the hall to the room that she’d once thought to be Hilda’s alone.

It appeared as though Hilda intended to now dedicate the room to all three of them, though, for as soon as she burst through the open door with Edelgard in her arms, she practically tossed Edelgard onto the great four-poster bed and abandoned her there.

Edelgard gasped in surprise as her bare skin hit the cool fabric of the coverlet on their bed. Swooping into the room behind them, Marianne leaned in and kissed Edelgard in a surprisingly chaste manner before gently swatting at her thigh.

“Let me pull this down,” she instructed Edelgard, grasping at the edge of the coverlet beneath her. Raising her brows, then her hips, Edelgard allowed Marianne to draw the coverlet down to the edge of the bed before she joined Hilda over by their closet. Edelgard wriggled around, making herself comfortable against the pillows.

Edelgard tried to not stare, she really did, as Hilda and Marianne disrobed with practiced ease. Even so, she could not ignore their obvious knowledge of each other, of their bodies.

Without saying anything about it, Marianne made use of her height to undo the buttons at Hilda’s back. Hilda tossed discarded articles of clothing from both of them over her shoulder into a little pile at the base of her closet. There was a beautiful efficiency to the way they moved, like clothing was simply an obstacle in the way of them being together.

Jealousy sparked in Edelgard’s chest. Seeing them together like this was just another reminder that she was the stranger here, that she was the one intruding upon what was otherwise a perfectly content relationship.

But then the two women returned to the bed and settled down on either side of her—Marianne to her left, Hilda to her right—and she no longer had to question her inclusion. The softness of Hilda’s chest pressed against Edelgard’s arm as Hilda turned her head aside for a kiss, and Marianne took advantage of Edelgard’s divided attention to languidly draw her finger down her collarbone, her breast.

Edelgard let loose a nearly silent moan into Hilda’s mouth at the feeling of Marianne’s touch against her areola, then broke away from Hilda’s kiss to gape in surprise at Marianne. Marianne simply smiled coyly, like she’d expected just that reaction from Edelgard, and drew her in for a kiss of her own.

Dazedly, Edelgard wondered why Marianne had waited so long to kiss her. Her lips felt like velvet and tasted of vanilla, and if they were to never pull apart, if she were to die of asphyxiation right there in Marianne and Hilda’s arms, Edelgard was certain that she’d die happily.

But she needed air sooner or later, as did Marianne, and when they broke away from each other, Edelgard offered her partner an apologetic expression.

“I haven’t—I haven’t really done this before,” Edelgard said, averting her gaze. Her chest felt cold in its bareness, and while she tried to regulate her breathing, she couldn’t ignore the way Marianne’s eyes watched her hungrily. “Not with another woman, I mean. Much less two.”

“Oh, sweet Edelgard,” Hilda crooned, her breath hot against Edelgard’s ear. Without any warning, she nipped at the lobe of her ear, causing Edelgard to squeak and squirm against the bedsheets beneath her. “Do you really think I’d let something as silly as _inexperience_ get in the way of us having a good time?”

“Hilda’s _very_ good at what she does,” Marianne assured her as she traced light, lazy circles around Edelgard’s breast with her fingertip. “You saw us, didn’t you? The other day, before you ran away to who knows where.”

Edelgard inhaled sharply as Marianne’s nail ran over her nipple, and the unexpected sensation washed away any notion of denying what she’d seen. “I did, I did,” she confessed on the exhale, her eyes fluttering open and shut with the effort of admitting her wrongdoing. “I truly didn’t mean to; it was an accident. I thought you were hurt, so I came to check on you—”

Hilda giggled, and Edelgard realized with a shock that she had begun to babble nonsense. In response, she pressed her lips together tightly as Hilda tapped her nose. “You’re so _cute,_ you know that, right? All those times you were chatting along, flustered by just the _thought_ of having someone even touch you?” She giggled again, and Edelgard felt Hilda’s excitedly kicking legs brush against her own. “Is your life _really_ that sad, Edelgard?”

“Not anymore,” Marianne reminded her, and Hilda grinned excitedly.

“Right, not anymore. Because now you’ve got _us._ And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but—” Hilda nuzzled against the delicate skin of Edelgard’s neck, smiled into the tiny kisses that she left there, at the gasps that she elicited from Edelgard, “—but we just can’t keep our hands _off_ of you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Edelgard said between involuntary gasps. “What do I need to do?”

“Absolutely nothing, silly.” Hilda tapped her nose again; Edelgard wrinkled her nose in response. “What about ‘ _we’re going to take care of you_ ’ gives you the idea that you’re going to do anything but lie there and let us pleasure you?”

Edelgard blushed furiously. She couldn’t bear to simply, as Hilda had put it, lie there and let them pleasure her. Merely thinking the words prompted guilt to coil through her chest and squeeze tightly around her heart. But it seemed as though neither Marianne nor Hilda had any qualms with the situation at hand, so Edelgard steeled herself for whatever was to come.

But she needn’t have been scared.

As gentle as a wisp of cloud, Marianne circled Edelgard’s breast once more with her finger before trailing up to the burn scars that mottled and marred the skin of her chest. Edelgard’s breathing came to a halt as Marianne traced the warped skin with a touch lighter than air, called Edelgard’s memory back to the reverence with which Marianne had touched her scars when she’d dressed her up. She continued holding her breath and watched Marianne’s finger draw from the right side of her chest to the left, following the whorls and knots of whitened scar tissue. It was such a kind touch, gentle and tender and something completely different from the regret and scorn with which Edelgard always regarded herself in the mirror, that when Edelgard forced herself to breathe again, it was choked and ragged.

“Mari, look at that,” Hilda scolded, running the back of her hand against Edelgard’s cheek. When she pulled it away, her hand was glistening. “She’s crying, and we’ve barely even started. How could you?”

Marianne sighed, and the warmth of her sweet breath as it washed over Edelgard’s bare shoulders sent a chill down her spine. “But she’s so _beautiful,_ Hilda. She’s been through so much, and somehow, she made it here. To us.” She pressed a tiny kiss to Edelgard’s left collarbone. “Aren’t we lucky?”

She kissed Edelgard’s collarbone again, and a moment later, Edelgard felt Marianne’s lips leisurely trace up the side of her neck. Edelgard forgot to breathe again as Marianne kissed her jaw, the side of her mouth, her lips—

“Take a breath, Edelgard,” Marianne whispered against Edelgard’s mouth. “I don’t want you fainting before Hilda’s had her turn.”

As though she’d been waiting for just that reminder, that gentle, well-meaning command, Edelgard gasped. Her lungs filled with cool, sweet air, and she was overwhelmed with relief.

“There you go, perfect,” Marianne purred proudly. “See? You’re a natural.”

Bolstered with a sudden confidence, finding herself determined to prove Marianne right, Edelgard lifted her head from the pillow on which she lay and crashed her lips against Marianne’s. Marianne’s mouth opened in surprise, but she quickly seemed to pick up on what Edelgard was trying to do despite the clumsy, fumbling way in which Edelgard kissed her.

When Marianne pulled up off of her, her eyes bright with delight, the pale lipstick she’d been wearing earlier smeared across her face, Edelgard smirked. It seemed like she’d done a decent, if not exemplary job.

“My turn,” she heard Hilda say from her right. Edelgard instinctively turned to face the origin of the sound, only to find Hilda’s face impossibly close to her own. She was so close, in fact, that Edelgard could make out the faint smattering of freckles that hid beneath her makeup.

“Hey there, cutie,” Hilda said with an impish smile, drawing Edelgard’s attention away from her tiny freckles and back to those wide brown eyes that glinted mischievously. “So, I figured that before we go any further, I should _probably_ make sure you’re okay with it.”

Edelgard drew her brows together, the pillow beneath her head preventing her from tilting her head to the side curiously. Still dazed from the way kissing Marianne had made her feel, she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what Hilda was insinuating.

“Make… sure I’m okay with it?” Edelgard asked through a mumble, to which Hilda just giggled and poked at the little furrow that had built up between Edelgard’s brows. Edelgard wrinkled her nose in response. “I thought you did that when you asked to kiss me. Or when you, ah, took my clothes off.”

“Mm, _nope._ ” Hilda _pop-_ ped her dismissal of Edelgard’s confusion. Edelgard found that she couldn’t look away from the way Hilda’s perfectly lush, enticingly kissable lips shaped the word. “That was to kiss you.” With one finger, she gently stroked the bridge of Edelgard’s nose. “And to strip you down.” She repeated the motion, this time with a second finger added. “This time, it’s to make sure you’re good with us—how do you wanna say it, Mari?”

Marianne piped up from Edelgard’s other side to say, “Hilda wants to show you how much we appreciate you.” When that didn’t immediately strike a chord with Edelgard, she clucked her tongue and reached across Edelgard’s chest. Running her fingers down along Edelgard’s sternum, between her breasts, down her stomach, and ultimately twirling around the line of pale hairs that continued on downward from there, she hummed. The touch was unfamiliar to Edelgard, as no one had ever cause to touch her stomach before, but she relaxed against Marianne’s tenderness.

“Have you ever been eaten out?” Marianne finally asked her, so close to Edelgard that she could feel her lips against the shell of her ear. 

Racking her mind, Edelgard thought back to the book she’d read back at the office, one of the ones she’d borrowed from Dorothea. If being eaten out was what she thought it was, then she couldn’t deny that she wanted just that.

Looking straight into Hilda’s beautiful, confident eyes, a delicious new craving set ablaze deep within herself, Edelgard smiled. “Not yet.”

Hilda’s eyes glinted thirstily. “Is that what you want, Edelgard?”

Edelgard took a deep breath. If she were to deny her desire here, now, she could go home and return to the perfectly fine—if lonely—life to which she’d long been accustomed. She could turn both Marianne and Hilda in for murder and conspiracy, and be lauded for her detective skills. Yet even as she considered the notion, she already knew her answer to Hilda’s question.

There was no doubt in her mind as she longingly smiled at Hilda.

“Please, Hilda,” Edelgard said, taking delight in the way Hilda licked her lips at the sound of her name. It was still so new for her, and wonderfully different from the _‘Miss Goneril’_ that Edelgard had become so accustomed to referring to her with. “Hilda, I want you more than words can say.” 

Hilda, graciously, leaned in and pressed her lips against Edelgard’s as her hand joined Marianne’s on Edelgard’s abdomen. Marianne’s hand moved up to Edelgard’s chest, however, while Hilda’s dipped dangerously low.

Edelgard bit down on her lower lip and inhaled sharply as Hilda walked her fingers down slowly, tantalizingly, to the point where Edelgard’s thighs met. She pressed her legs together, and Hilda hesitated. Marianne seemed to notice Edelgard tensing up, meanwhile, and with a rustle of bedsheets, she pulled herself up in the bed to curl up near Edelgard’s head.

“Relax, Edelgard,” she crooned, stroking the white of Edelgard’s hair in a soft, rhythmic manner. “It isn’t going to hurt, never, but it’ll feel _so_ much better if you relax. We’d _never_ want to hurt you.” She kissed Edelgard’s forehead, and returned to running her fingers through her hair. Edelgard took a deep breath, and tried to let the tension that had built up in her muscles go.

“Hilda’s very, _very_ good at what she does.” Marianne continued, “and she wants to show you just how very much we love you, don’t you, Hilda?”

“Exactly,” Hilda said as her fingers finally brushed against Edelgard’s clit, her wolfish grin a stark contrast to Marianne’s gentle reassurances. Edelgard gasped at the contact to the sensitive nub, expected though it had been, and instinctively tightened her thighs again.

Hilda sighed, though there wasn’t any malice in the sound. “We talked about this, _Edelgard_. _Relax._ ” 

Slowly exhaling, Edelgard nodded, and with that silent compliance, Hilda’s fingers began to circle around Edelgard’s clit. She began slowly, easing Edelgard into the newness of her touch. Edelgard took a deep breath, then let it go with a long, extended sigh.

“There we go,” Marianne said as she stopped stroking Edelgard’s hair and started tracing the lines of her scars once again. “You’re so _good_ at this _,_ Edelgard. So pretty, so smart, so _good_.”

Edelgard blushed as she shifted her hips to slightly adjust her position, making herself more comfortable in the process, but in doing so, she accidentally pressed herself harder against Hilda’s circulatory motion. The additional pressure ignited something deep within; she found that she liked the feeling. So, without considering the banal implications of her discovery, Edelgard continued moving her hips. The grinding of her hips against Hilda’s hand in conjunction with the masterful dancing of Hilda’s fingers built an unexpected friction stronger than anything else Edelgard had experienced before.

Then, out of nowhere, Hilda changed up her pace. Instead of focusing her attention solely on Edelgard’s clit, she moved her fingers down to drag them through the slick that now dripped from Edelgard’s entrance. It wasn’t as sensitive of a sensation as it had been when Hilda had been rubbing against her clit, but there was a foreignness to the feeling of Hilda’s fingers against her entrance that was exhilarating.

“Looks like she really wanted this, Marianne,” Hilda said, raising a brow as she drew her hand up and held it out for Marianne to see. Edelgard barely managed to hold back the moan that spawned in her chest as Hilda’s nails scraped against her clit on the way up. And seeing Hilda’s hand in the air above her, glistening and shining with her own wetness, Edelgard felt a strange sort of pride growing in her chest. It was one thing to _feel_ the arousal that Marianne and Hilda had coaxed out of her; it was something else entirely to have it in plain view, on display for all three of them to marvel at.

“I’d have to agree,” Marianne said, her thumb idly stroking the curve of Edelgard’s cheek. Before Edelgard could shrink away with the embarrassment of having her desire put on full display, however, Marianne leaned down to kiss her forehead. “What do you think, Hilda? Should we reward her for her excellent performance?”

“Okay,” Hilda said slowly, like she was savoring the taste of the words on her tongue, “but I was planning on getting to that in a little while.”

Shaking her head, Marianne chuckled. “You might want to go ahead and reward her now, Hilda. I don’t think our lovely Edelgard is going to be able to hold on as long as you or I could.”

Edelgard took advantage of Hilda’s brief interruption to take a deep breath and calm the frantic beating of her heart. Something deep in the back of her mind urged her to quell the arousal that curled in her belly, but she shoved it down. She _wanted_ this; it was only years of denial and internalized homophobia that made her hesitate.

Pride washed over her; Edelgard smiled smugly. She’d learned _that_ word from Dorothea’s surprisingly informative books. She’d come so far over the course of the past few days, hadn’t she? She’d gone from repressed woman to laying nude on the bed of two women who had apparently been trying to seduce her for quite some time.

Unaware of Edelgard’s silent self-examination, Hilda hummed as she considered the truth of Marianne’s words. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I should speed things up a bit.” She winked at Marianne. “I’m gonna want a _really_ good snack later, you know. This stuff wipes me out.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.” Marianne blew a kiss back to Hilda. “I know you only give as good as you get.”

“Should I be worried?” Edelgard asked apprehensively, craning her neck to look up at Marianne.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hilda said as Marianne pressed another kiss to Edelgard’s cheek. “I’m just gonna completely blow your mind, is all.”

Mildly concerned, Edelgard kept her gaze on Marianne, who merely smiled softly. “You’ll be alright,” she reassured Edelgard. “Just remember to relax.”

“Right. Relax.” Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from Marianne, Edelgard turned it onto Hilda—but Hilda wasn’t facing her anymore.

Instead, Hilda had begun to busy herself with trailing her damp fingers down Edelgard’s chest, her stomach, all the way back down to the apex of her thighs. Instead of returning to the business of fingering Edelgard, however, Hilda used her fingers as a place-marker.

Edelgard’s eyes, wide and cautious, followed Hilda as she moved down her nakedness and positioned herself at Edelgard’s entrance. She knew what Hilda was about to do—she’d read it in one of Dorothea’s books—but as Hilda glanced up to her with mischief in her eyes, she realized that the real thing was going to be _very_ different. Meeting Hilda’s eyes rekindled that burning desire that soaked her inner thighs, and the only thing that prevented Edelgard from clutching her thighs together was the way Hilda descended upon her core.

Hilda dragged her tongue up from Edelgard’s entrance to her clit, and the sudden warmth that enveloped her turned Edelgard’s legs to jelly. Then, as Hilda swirled, Edelgard gasped and her muscles involuntarily clenched. The increased pressure on either side of Hilda’s head wasn’t enough for her to stop her ministration, however. She latched onto Edelgard with a gentle pursing of her lips, and in humming, sent a great thrill all through Edelgard’s body.

Edelgard’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, to muffle the pleasure-prompted moans that escaped her, but Marianne gently pushed her hands down.

“You don’t have to hide it when you feel good,” Marianne said in a warm, comforting tone, her kind touch holding Edelgard’s hands against her chest. “Go ahead and let it out. Let Hilda know how good of a job she’s doing.”

Even with that gentle permission, however, Edelgard couldn’t simply set aside years of repression. She bit down on her lip as Hilda sucked on her clit, as Hilda employed her fingers to tease her folds, her entrance, and as the wet sounds of her own lust elicited another unexpected moan.

Hilda’s giggle rumbled throughout Edelgard. That gentle vibration in conjunction with the almost ethereal tracing of Marianne’s long fingers against her bare breasts made Edelgard squirm in place as an astonishing pressure began to build up in her core. It threatened to overwhelm her, to wash her away in a wave of exhilaration, and Edelgard instinctively tried to hide the whole of her reaction.

But then Marianne brushed her lips against Edelgard’s ear to murmur, “Come for us, Edelgard,” just as Hilda made a particularly pleasant shape with her mouth, and Edelgard knew it was all over. She came with a shudder that ran through her whole body, clenching every muscle for what felt like an eternity. She forgot to breathe, and stars began to burst behind her eyes. Marianne continued whispering sweet nothings in her ear, despite the fact that Edelgard couldn’t hear her—much less comprehend her—over the sharp keen that slipped from her mouth whilst in the throes of ecstasy. Meanwhile, Hilda refused to give up despite the tightening of Edelgard’s thighs against her ears. She teased Edelgard’s orgasm out for far longer than Edelgard could have maintained on her own, and she only pulled away from Edelgard’s thighs once Edelgard sank into the bed, limp and completely spent.

“You did so _well!_ ” Hilda chirped as she pulled herself up further on the bed and reclaimed her spot by Edelgard. Wiping at the juices that dripped from her chin and ignoring Edelgard’s slack expression, she nuzzled up against Edelgard’s side. “I almost can’t believe you’ve never done that before.”

Marianne took a cue from Hilda, and moved so that Edelgard was effectively sandwiched between the other two women. “You should be very proud of yourself,” she informed Edelgard, who could barely even muster the energy to blush.

Edelgard tried to turn away, tried to avoid the intense way that the women on either side of her _looked_ at her, looked at each other, in the aftermath of her orgasm, but Marianne placed a finger on her chin and turned her face back towards her benevolent smile.

What had it been like before she’d known how nice it was to be wrapped up in the embrace of someone who loved her? Edelgard found that she couldn’t remember; it all felt so very distant now. And she was alright with that, because the way Marianne leaned in and kissed her, pressing velvet-soft lips against hers, rerouted every concern in Edelgard’s mind and sent them all away.

She was drowning in love, and as it filled her lungs, she couldn’t think of any other way she’d want to go out.

“You should go to the bathroom,” Hilda prompted Edelgard, leading her to look away from Marianne and back to Hilda.

“Why?” Edelgard mumbled, her brows drawn together with confusion. “I don’t want to move.” She felt heavy, loose, and slack, like she’d been working endlessly for hours and had only just been able to lie down in comfort. Her mind was foggy, her eyes were bleary, and even stringing together a coherent thought felt like an uphill battle.

“You’ll feel gross if you don’t,” Hilda elaborated as she brushed a few strands of damp hair out of Edelgard’s face. “Just, like, go to the bathroom. Wipe down a bit with a washcloth. You’ll feel better after, and sleep better too.”

“She knows what she’s talking about,” Marianne said, nudging Edelgard’s bare shoulder. “Shoo. Go.”

Edelgard groaned as, with no little effort, she pulled herself up into a seated position despite the gravitational pull of the mattress beneath her. One of the women behind her, she wasn’t sure which, patted her back in encouragement, and as soon as she dragged herself across the bed, Edelgard laboriously let herself down off the edge.

Her bare feet touched the rug, and Edelgard stood. As soon as she tried to take a step forward, however, her knees wobbled unsteadily beneath her and she stumbled. It was only by grabbing onto the bedpost for support that she avoided faceplanting directly onto the ground, and as she righted herself, Edelgard heard her two partners break out into beautiful, if tired, laughter.

“Clean up your mess, Hilda,” Marianne chuckled into her handful of blanket. “Edelgard might not make it to the bathroom if you don’t.”

“Is this something that happens a lot?” Edelgard asked, her cheeks warm as she clung to the bedpost for dear life.

“When it’s my turn to go down, yeah.” Hilda rolled off of the bed, landing on the ground with a quiet _thump_ and an overdramatic groan before slinking over to the side of the bed where Edelgard feebly stood. Scooping up Edelgard from her side, Hilda carried her towards the bathroom door. Embarrassed, Edelgard pressed her hands against her face to hide her expression.

“You’re the worst,” Edelgard mumbled into her hands, to which Hilda just tossed her head back in laughter.

“Yeah, but you love us anyway,” she said. “So aren’t we lucky, Miss Detective?”

No, Edelgard thought with a broad, genuine smile that she kept secret behind her hands, holding it close to her heart with joy. _She_ was the fortunate one, having been granted love in the most unexpected of places. And not the love of one person, as most people would hunger for, but of two.

 _For whenever I look at you even briefly_ _  
_ _I can no longer say a single thing,_

 _But my tongue is frozen in silence;_ _  
_ _Instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin._

Peeking between her fingers, Edelgard glanced at Marianne, at Hilda, and covered her face once again. Perhaps she understood Sappho a little bit better now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last bit, in italics, is from Sappho 31~
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me through this. It took a long time to write, and I've been so excited to share it with all of you. All that's left is the epilogue, which should tie up a few loose ends (or just like...two). 
> 
> Again, thank you for your kind words and great enthusiasm. ♥


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard wakes up surrounded by love. She throws herself into her work. She discovers the truth—the _real_ truth. And soon, as all things must, the story comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried a little something with this chapter. Hopefully, it is successful.

For the first time in a long time, Edelgard woke up feeling rested, like she'd had no dreams whatsoever. With a wide, sleepy yawn, she shifted in her bed—but to her surprise, she found that doing so was much more difficult than normal. For a brief, flickering moment, Edelgard thought that she must have simply layered a few more blankets on her bed than normal and forgotten about doing so.

But in opening her eyes, it dawned upon Edelgard that she wasn’t actually in her bed at all. Not only that, but what she’d initially taken to be a particularly heavy blanket wasn’t a blanket—but a whole other person.

Long, pink hair was splayed across her chest, and as Edelgard’s gaze trailed towards the source, she realized that a majority of the unexpected weight came from someone lying on top of her, using her bare chest as a pillow. Confused, Edelgard frowned—and then she remembered.

Oh. Right. _That_ had happened.

She had returned to the mansion where Hilda and Marianne lived, and instead of clapping Marianne in cuffs as she’d intended to do, she’d thoroughly embarrassed both herself and her profession. Not only had she fainted right before the two women, but she’d confessed her feelings to them and ultimately, they’d engaged in—

In a surprisingly girlish manner, Edelgard clapped her only free hand over her eyes and squealed quietly, trying to _somehow_ let loose the excited energy that had built up inside her.

That had happened. _That had happened._ She’d kissed the two of them, as bizarre as it sounded, and they’d had _sex_ and it had been _amazing_ —though she’d have to confront Dorothea about the inaccuracy of the erotica she had lent her—but _that had happened_!

Out of nowhere, Hilda reached up from her position on Edelgard’s chest and groggily groped around to find Edelgard’s face.

“Stop it,” she whined after she found Edelgard’s nose and pinched it lightly. “I’m tryin’a sleep.”

“Hilda doesn’t take very well to being woken up,” Marianne mumbled from Edelgard’s other side, and with a jolt, Edelgard remembered that the gentle, kindhearted woman was also present in the bed with them. “Honestly, Edelgard, you should just resign yourself to staying right where you are until she feels ready to get up.”

Edelgard blushed at hearing her name. They’d just had sex a few hours ago, yes, so one might have expected her to be beyond that point, but that was not the case. There was something so painfully and unexpectedly intimate about having one’s name whispered in bed, however, to have it fall from the lips of a lover that broke down each and every one of Edelgard’s barriers. Having a lover, much less two of them, went so far beyond all of Edelgard’s expectations for her life that it all seemed so… dreamlike at times.

A moment later, though, Marianne’s expression darkened ever so slightly. “Can I ask you something, Edelgard?”

“Mm.”

“What do you plan to do now?” Marianne’s eyes, deep, warm, and wide, bored into Edelgard’s with an intensity Edelgard hadn’t expected to see so early in the morning. “With, um, about the case, I mean.” 

If Edelgard could have burrowed into the pillow beneath her head, she would have. Marianne was asking for answers that she didn’t have. But it was Marianne’s life at risk, Marianne’s life held within Edelgard’s hands, and Edelgard wanted to somehow ease her worries. 

“I’m not turning you in,” Edelgard blurted out. She couldn’t. She’d been so distraught by the very _idea_ of turning Marianne in last night that she’d fainted, and she couldn’t imagine that she would feel any less upset about it _now_. “I don’t—I don’t _know_ what I’ll do, not yet. But I’ll figure something out. But I’m not turning you in, Marianne, I promise.”

Edelgard closed her eyes and sighed as Marianne, scooting closer to her, placed a hand on her face and gently stroked Edelgard’s cheek with her thumb.

“I’ll figure something out.”

* * *

_“I don’t get it, Edelgard.” Ferdinand rapped a knuckle against the stack of papers that had begun to build up on Edelgard’s desk. She glared at him from her seat behind her desk, but he didn’t seem to mind very much. “A few weeks ago, you were completely convinced that the widow was guilty of murder.”_

_“It wouldn’t be enough to say that I changed my mind, right?” Edelgard chuckled grimly. She was well aware that it wouldn’t be enough. Ferdinand wasn’t an idiot, as obstinate and bull-headed as he might be._

_As predicted, Ferdinand shook his head. With a performative, dramatic sigh—one that she certainly hadn’t picked up from Hilda, certainly not—Edelgard steepled her fingers and smiled conspiratorially._

_“It wasn’t Hil—Miss Goneril. That, I can assure you.”_

_Technically speaking, it was the truth._

* * *

“You’ll figure something out,” Hilda said sleepily from where she lay on Edelgard’s chest. “You’re our cute little detective lady, after all.”

“Aw, you think I’m _cute_.” Casual and informal, the word felt foreign on Edelgard’s tongue. Judging from Marianne’s chuckle, one that rumbled through her torso, her effort was not without reward.

Groaning in frustration, Hilda reached up and whacked at Edelgard’s face once again. “What did I say? Stop moving.”

* * *

_From within the many, many files on her desk, Edelgard drew out the one containing the Acheron case. And from that, she selected the autopsy report and set it down on the desk for her compatriot to see._

_Ferdinand leaned in, of course, and once Hubert noticed something was going on, he walked over to join them. Edelgard said nothing about the way Ferdinand’s arm snaked around Hubert’s waist. If anything, she was a bit jealous._

_“The doctor who performed the autopsy,” she began, “reported that there was a buildup of trichloroethane in the late lord’s blood. Trichloroethane, or ‘chlorothene,’ doesn’t show up in the body naturally, and would have to somehow be ingested.”_

_She gestured towards Hubert. “The sleeping tinctures that you found in Miss von Edmund’s belongings, Hubert, could have been responsible for such a high count of trichloroethane, especially if she’d been prescribed something like chloral hydrate for her insomnia.” Lifting a hand, she pointed up in preparation to make her point. “And initially, that’s what I believed happened. That the lord was somehow overdosed on chloral hydrate.”_

_Edelgard’s gloved finger came down and landed solidly on the doctor’s intricate handwriting._

_“Tell me, Ferdinand, what does this say, here?”_

* * *

Wrapping her arms around Edelgard’s left arm, Marianne snuggled up close to Edelgard’s side.

“You _are_ cute though,” she crooned in Edelgard’s ear. Edelgard blushed in response to the litany of compliments, at the curl of Marianne’s breath against the shell of her ear. “You’re cute, and beautiful, and _oh_ so smart.”

Edelgard stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t, after all, let herself think too hard about the fact that Marianne’s bare breasts pressed warmly against her side, nor could she let herself get wrapped up in the fantasy of lavishing attention on said breasts. Marianne _deserved_ that attention, after all. While they weren’t as large and cushiony as Hilda’s, they seemed to be just the right size to fit in Edelgard’s palms. Would they? 

Seemingly unaware of Edelgard’s dilemma—though Edelgard had her doubts about her innocence once she noticed Marianne’s smug smile in her peripheral vision—Marianne continued. “Honestly, Edelgard, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”

* * *

_“I assume you’re going somewhere with this,” Hubert grumbled. “Some of us have work to do, and don’t have time to stand around gawking over scribbles.”_

_“I contacted the doctor who performed the autopsy,” Edelgard said, “and he confirmed my suspicions.”_

_“What did he say?” Ferdinand knocked his hand on the desk, clearly very caught up in the suspense and drama Edelgard had built up. She smiled with coy satisfaction. Perfect._

_She paused, letting the tension build until even_ she _couldn’t stand it a moment more._

_And then, she revealed the truth of the situation at hand._

_“It wasn’t a homicide at all.”_

* * *

“Maybe so,” Hilda interjected, having apparently determined that she wasn’t going to be getting any extra sleep, “but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna have an easy time about it.”

With a pert little frown, she pushed herself up on her elbows and tossed her hair out of her face. Edelgard hissed at the motion, as Hilda’s elbows pressed painfully into the spaces between her ribs, and after a mumbled apology, Hilda settled for pushing Edelgard’s arm out of the way. She made herself comfortable in the space between Edelgard’s arm and her chest and laid her head on Edelgard’s shoulder. Marianne blew Hilda a kiss from Edelgard’s other side.

“Anyway,” Hilda said, drawing the attention back to herself as she tugged the blanket up to her chin and snuggled in beside Edelgard. “You’ve always been so, like, uptight, and I get the feeling that your job is _super_ important to you.”

Edelgard nodded and Hilda looked up to her with a surprisingly serious expression.

“So what are you gonna do, Edelgard?” she asked, lifting a brow as she drew little swirls across Edelgard’s chest with the tip of her finger. Edelgard found that trying to actually think of an answer to her dilemma while Hilda was touching her was nearly impossible.

But Hilda, coquette that she was, didn’t seem to give much thought to the torment she was visiting upon Edelgard as she proceeded with her prodding. “Are you gonna _lie_ and hope nobody figures it out?”

* * *

_Edelgard let herself bask in the shock that spread across Ferdinand’s face. This was exactly why she’d wanted to tell him, and not Hubert. It wasn’t that Hubert wouldn’t have appreciated her discovery, but to see the realization register on Ferdinand’s face was nothing short of sublime._

_Edelgard drew an invisible circle around the word ‘trichloroethane’ in the report with her finger._

_“There is a very slight difference between the word ‘trichloroethane,’ with an ‘a,’ and ‘trichloroethene,’ with an ‘e.’” she said. “It would be easy for anyone, especially an assistant taking notes for the doctor, to mistake the two for each other. And while they’re close enough in name that someone could assume that they’re the same thing.”_

_“Let me guess,” Ferdinand said, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “They’re not the same thing. How does this change this from being a homicide, though?”_

_“I’ll tell you.” Edelgard took her little notebook out of her skirt pocket and flipped through it to find a specific, dog-eared page. “Trichloroeth_ ane _, with an ‘a,’ is what was written down. What was actually in his blood, though, was trichloroeth_ ene _, with an ‘e.’ It can also be fatal, but instead of coming out of a bottle of medicine, it can be found in contaminated drinking water—especially in industrial areas.”_

_Edelgard looked up to meet her friends’ eyes. They didn’t seem to be as excited about her discovery as she was, but wasn’t that to be expected? It was their company’s case, yes, but neither of them were as invested in finding the truth as she was._

* * *

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Edelgard said, returning her gaze to the ceiling above. As painful as it was to admit, she didn’t have an answer yet. And really, the only thing she could do, barring revealing the truth as she knew it, was return to the basic facts at hand and see if she was missing anything. If there was, by some miracle, something that she had overlooked as a result of her initial inflexibility.

“Is there anything we could do to help?” Marianne asked, and Edelgard shook her head. 

“Nothing comes to mind.” She shrugged. “I think the first thing I should do is revisit the facts of the case. There may be something that I overlooked, seeing how _certain_ I was about my first theory.” 

“And it doesn’t help how _sexy_ we are.” Hilda grinned impishly. “You’ve probably forgotten, like, _everything._ ” 

“Maybe not _everything,_ ” Edelgard protested. “I still remember the basic facts of the case.” Even so, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to begin from the beginning. She had probably missed _something_ along the line, and she was desperate enough that any lead, innocuous as it may be, would be a decent place to begin her investigation anew.

* * *

_“Are you trying to say that Lord Acheron died from_ drinking water _?” Hubert lifted an inquisitive brow. “That’s something of a reach, don’t you think?”_

_“You would think so!” Edelgard straightened up and set her hands on her hips triumphantly. “But Lord Acheron was a young, ruthless entrepreneur. His business was in the industrial area of the city; don’t you think he’d spend most of his time there, trying to get his business off the ground?”_

_Hubert opened his mouth to say something else, but Edelgard was simply too excited about her findings to let his inquiry interrupt her._

_“And it’s not as though he had anything to go home to!” She began to count off on her fingers. “His wife hated him, she refused to have intercourse with him, and her friend was always around. I spoke with some of his associates, and it seemed as though he had a habit of arriving at work early, then would leave for a late dinner.”_

_Ferdinand seemed to understand Edelgard’s excitement, and perhaps even seemed to be getting excited alongside her. Grabbing Edelgard’s shoulders, he blurted out, “It would make sense! If he’s at work all day, drinking water there, it makes sense that he might ingest the—the—”_

_“The trichloroethene!” Edelgard supplied helpfully, breaking out into a grin so great that her cheeks quickly began to hurt. “This means they’re innocent! Marianne, Hilda, they’re innocent!”_

* * *

Hilda groaned from Edelgard’s side. “It’s too early to think about stuff this serious,” she grumbled, at which Marianne chuckled. Hilda frowned at the mockery. “What? I think I should be allowed to have a nice morning with my pretty naked ladies.” 

Edelgard snorted with laughter, and Hilda reached across to whack her chest. 

“Stop moving!” she demanded. “You’re my pillow. And I don’t think you’ve rested a day in your life, Edelgard, so you probably don’t know, but _pillows don’t move_.” 

Edelgard pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop herself from laughing harder, which only resulted in her torso shaking even more. Gasping in faux horror, Hilda pushed herself up on the bed to glare at Marianne.

“You know what I mean!” Hilda pointed emphatically between Marianne and Edelgard. “Marianne, _you’re_ good at being my pillow and letting me sleep! _You_ tell our little genius here how to do it!” 

Marianne hummed as though she was considering the proper thing to tell Edelgard. Edelgard searched her face, noting her serious expression as she waited for Marianne to say something.

“You ignore her,” she finally advised with a barely-suppressed smile, laughter dancing in her eyes, at which point Edelgard realized that holding back her own mirth was futile. 

Infuriated, Hilda grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and threw it at Edelgard and Marianne. “You’re _horrible!_ ” she wailed, though her grin belied her actual amusement at the situation. “I can’t be _l_ _ieve_ you, Marianne! You’re supposed to be on my side about this!” 

“That’s not how this works anymore!” Marianne giggled as she buried her face in Edelgard’s arm. “I’m not going to take _sides,_ silly! Not when I love both of you!” 

* * *

_Edelgard clapped her hands over her mouth. For the length of her extended investigation regarding the truth of Acheron’s death, she’d been so,_ so _careful to avoid calling her partners by name in front of, well, her other partners. Her_ business _partners. And while she was well aware of the fact that Hubert and Ferdinand were cued into her enough that they could probably tell without her physically saying anything, she had been determined to remain silent until the case was closed._

_But she’d said their names, joyously even, and there was no doubt about her feelings for them. Those feelings hung heavily in the air around Edelgard, and she shrank down upon herself._

_The room was silent._

_And then, Ferdinand’s strong arms wrapped around Edelgard’s waist, and he embraced her so strongly that even the toes of her shoes lifted from the ground._

_“What wonderful news!” he cheered with her. “The lovely ladies who have captured our Edelgard’s heart are innocent!”_

_“Ferdinand!” Edelgard wailed in his arms, embarrassment beyond belief welling up within her as he swung her around._

_Over his shoulder, she could see Hubert watching them. She smiled feebly at him, trying to issue a silent apology for her unprofessional conduct, but to her surprise,_ Hubert _smiled back at_ her _. Her jaw dropped, but with that silent approval, she felt comfortable enough to throw her arms around Ferdinand’s neck and hug him back in return._

_“They’re innocent!” she sang. Joy fluttered in her heart, and as Hubert begrudgingly joined Ferdinand’s embrace and sandwiched Edelgard between them, Edelgard realized she was crying in relief._

* * *

When Hilda calmed down from her tantrum, she crawled over Edelgard and wedged herself into the space between the other two women. “If I can’t get Marianne on my side,” she muttered as she forced herself into the middle, “then I’ll just have to settle with cuddles from _both_ of you.” 

While Edelgard felt a little glum to have Marianne and her warmth taken away from her with so little fanfare, she had the feeling that Hilda would continue to soak up a majority of the affection in the future. 

In the future. 

Edelgard tried to prevent Marianne or Hilda from noticing her sudden turn for the morose, but as she let a contemplative sigh fall from her lips, Hilda looked her way and Marianne’s head popped up from Hilda’s other side. 

“You okay?” Hilda asked with a tilt of her head, wrapping her arm around Edelgard’s shoulders and pulling her close. “You sound…” 

“Like you’re thinking,” Marianne said. 

Hilda hummed in assent. “Yeah. What’s up, Edelgard?” 

Edelgard shrugged. As kind as it was of them to worry after her, she’d spent so long keeping her worries bottled tight, that trying to open up to Hilda and Marianne was unfamiliar, and somewhat uncomfortable. She _wanted_ to open up to them, but letting down her walls scared her. 

“Hey.” 

Edelgard looked up just as Hilda leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she blushed furiously at the unexpected affection. 

“Tell us what’s wrong,” Hilda continued. “Who knows? Maybe we can help.” 

“I…” Edelgard clucked her tongue. “I’m just trying to figure out what to do now.” 

“About the case?” Marianne asked. 

“No, no,” Edelgard said with a weak smile. “Not work. I’m thinking about _us_ , I suppose.” 

“What about it? I think we’re great. I like you, Mari likes you, and you like us. I don’t get what you’re so worried about.” 

Edelgard tried to piece together the way she wanted to explain her dilemma. “What now?” she finally came up with, frowning at the pitiful wobble of her voice. “Would it be alright for me to come back?” 

Hilda looked over her shoulder to share a look with Marianne. Then, turning back to Edelgard with a confused expression. “Of course,” she said, appalled that Edelgard had the audacity to ask such an obvious question. “I mean, why wouldn’t it be okay?” 

“Aren’t I intruding?” Edelgard blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep her emotions in check, lifted a hand to hide any unwanted tears. “You two are perfectly happy without me.” 

“But we’re happier _with_ you.” Marianne smiled over Hilda and reached out to pat Edelgard’s shoulder. Hilda nodded with her. “You’ll always have a home here, Edelgard. _Always._ ” 

Hilda interjected “We _want_ you here, okay? So don’t try and ditch us.” She nuzzled up against Edelgard’s face and knocked her hand out of the way. “You’re stuck with us now, babe.” 

“Exactly.” Marianne wrinkled her nose as she tried out Hilda’s turn of endearment. “ _Babe._ ” 

Marianne frowned. “I don’t get how you can say that so easily,” she then said to Hilda, poking her cheek. “It’s not—I don’t—” 

Edelgard laughed at their display, which was so clearly an attempt to get her to do just that. And as Marianne and Hilda beamed at her, proud of their success, she found that she could smile just as happily back.

* * *

Edelgard shifted her weight nervously from side to side, clutching her carpetbag in front of her like a shield. She’d gone to the trouble of returning to her apartment for a proper change of clothes for the weekend before heading out to the countryside, but she found that she was far more worried to return than she’d expected to be.

It wasn’t that she had to deliver the news of Marianne’s innocence to her partners; she’d done that as soon as Hubert and Ferdinand had verified the results of her investigation. Edelgard smiled at the memory of Hilda’s ear-shattering screech as she’d told her, and she had only heard how difficult it had been for Marianne to wrestle the phone away from Hilda.

No, what worried Edelgard was the inevitable crushing of her limbs that was to occur as soon as Hilda set eyes on her. That woman was terrifyingly strong, despite her slight frame, and Edelgard needed to retain use of all her appendages if she was going to be able to return to her job at the end of the weekend. Though, as she thought about it, it wouldn’t surprise her if Hilda incapacitated her for the sole purpose of having to keep her at home and nurse her back to health.

Hopefully, Marianne would be level-headed enough to keep that from happening. Edelgard chuckled at the thought, then frowned as another idea occurred to her: Marianne could be in on it. She was certainly more nurturing than Hilda, and a little subtler about her intentions. But she loved both of them nonetheless, and if it so happened that she found herself unable to return to her job for the week, then so be it.

After allowing herself a deep breath to prepare for the ruckus to come, Edelgard rapped her bare knuckles against the front door.

Almost immediately, she heard a loud, hurried bustling, like someone had been waiting impatiently by the door for her knock.

“Edelgard’s home!” she heard Hilda shout, even through the thick wood of the door, and then it slammed open. Edelgard was rewarded with the sight of Hilda, not a single hair out of place despite the bright flush of her cheeks. “You’re home!” Hilda shouted again, just as loud as she had been a moment before despite being right in front of Edelgard, and she promptly launched herself at Edelgard with outstretched arms.

Edelgard slid a foot back to prepare herself for Hilda’s incoming force, and she caught Hilda up in her arms with a wide smile. Hilda, meanwhile, chattered away as Edelgard held her close.

“You won’t believe the news we got this week!”

“Oh?” Edelgard asked with a lifted brow. “What could you possibly have heard, Miss Goneril?”

Hilda pulled away, her otherwise bright eyes darkening with a frown. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” she whined, to which Edelgard only smiled knowingly.

“Very well, Hilda.” Edelgard leaned in to press a kiss to Hilda’s cheek. “Tell me, what did you learn?”

“I heard…” Hilda drew silent as Marianne hurried to join them from further inside the house. With a resplendent grin, Edelgard held an arm out for Marianne to join them, which she promptly did.

“I knew you could do it!” Marianne laughed, her voice high-pitched with the effort of remaining dry-eyed. “I knew you could do it, Edelgard!”

Edelgard pulled Marianne close; Marianne squeaked at the strength of her grasp. “As of earlier this week,” she said, “you, Miss von Edmund, are an innocent woman.”

“Marianne,” Hilda corrected with a roll of her eyes. “And like I was gonna say, we got a very interesting call from this detective lady about Acheron’s death. Sure, we learned we didn’t actually kill him, but more importantly,” Hilda nudged Marianne out of the way to grin at Edelgard, “that detective lady sounded hot.”

“Are you cheating on our detective?” Marianne asked with a hand on her chest, teasingly affronted. “Hilda, I can’t believe you sometimes!”

“Marianne, Hilda,” Edelgard laughed, letting both of her lovers go before picking up her carpetbag and walking into the house beside them, “I’m glad to be home.”

* * *

_For even if she flees, soon she shall pursue._ _  
_ _And if she refuses gifts, soon she shall give them._ _  
_ _If she doesn’t love you, soon she shall love_ _  
_ _even if she’s unwilling._

_Come to me now once again and release me_ _  
_ _from grueling anxiety._ _  
_ _All that my heart longs for,_ _  
_ _fulfill. And be yourself my ally in love’s battle._

(Sappho 1, 21-29)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was a satisfying resolution. It probably sounds like I pulled it out of nowhere, but... ha, I did so much research on poisons. Everything about trichlorolethene and trichlorolethane is accurate, as far as I can tell. Anyway. That's not the point. 
> 
> Thanks to Lily for her encouragement and beta work. Thanks to Olivia for bringing this to life. And thanks to _you_ for joining me on this ride. I don't know where I'll go next, but I really loved pouring myself into _A Perfect Sapphic Storm._ (Though let's be honest, it'll always be _Thighs Out_ in my heart.) 
> 
> Til next time ♡

**Author's Note:**

> [Olivia](https://twitter.com/pippitea) and I conceived this idea after I saw Knives Out, and two and a half months later, here we are! [Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blooming_Spiderlily/pseuds/Blooming_Spiderlily) was _so_ much help, between betaing and brainstorming, and _Storm_ wouldn't have existed without these two lovely ladies. 
> 
> The whole story is complete, actually, and if you follow me on twitter (@tansybells) you've definitely seen me rant about it, though I've always referred to it as "Thighs Out" lol. I'll probably be updating weekly to bi-weekly; depends!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading! ❤︎


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